The Elder

Our elderly, our 'gems' of society.

The look of youth has passed my eyes
Come furrowed brow and withered skin
Hair thin, bright eyes gone dim
What will become of me now?

Swaddled in warm linen
Drive the chill from feeble bones
Teas, hot oils and liniments
These aromas fill my home

The shell I wore is no more
With deafened ear and eye so blind
Brittle bones and muscles sore
Prompting life to pass the time

Pace unsteady, twisted spine
These hands of mine will work no more
Fatigued and spent, take to my bed
My youth to find me never more

All so precious to me now
Things cast aside in early hours
What a waste! Relive this taste
A second chapter to devour

Heart now lonely, cold and stalled
House so silent, ever still
Hear the clock~tick tock tick tock
Gaze out from the windowsill

No more visits, no more calls
My wife long gone and buried deep
Now welcome death with open arms
My soul shall seek eternal sleep

Reviews

[charlie]

A heartbreaking portrait.
I appreciate that the poem doesn't shy away from what can be the grim reality of old age.
"The Elder" is an unflinching look at aging.

[Mari' Emeraude]

Working in an alternative care facility made me appreciate the value of these dear folks' limited time.