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Poem

Her Autumn

Salt and pepper hair in wisps and thin,
criss cross lines on brow and round the chin
Eyelids lower like the setting sun
resting pools of blue, their day's work done.
Like October trees, what leaves remain
the colours in her sorrow, in her pain.
Within that bony tissue paper shell
her kindness and love still intently dwell.
Slow breathing and soft pulse inside that frame
her soul sat back and played the waiting game.
We watched her cast off on that July day
in peace, her course set, gently float away.
Sailed over the horizon, seeming gone
as ships do, she was really sailing on
blown by faith's wind to a long promised land
she stepped ashore and took her father's hand.

( a sort of reprise on my poem 'Are you there God?')
** Thanks to CayCay Jennings for helping me tidy it up. Luv ya x   **

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