Grandma Wisdom

Old age is
Legs made of crumbs, fingers becoming twigs 
uneven floors and squeeze toys becoming hazardous
clusters of friends becoming spirits on the wing
all the others squat in attics or linger in the eaves.
If lucky enough, you get to hug a loved one once a week.

Old age is 
a favorite hymn fleeing one note at a time
playground giggles skipping youth back into the light... 
Chasing a sunrise after shuffling from the chains of night.
old age is a star and firefly slowly becoming one.

Old age is 
pretending there's a piece of this world that still cares. 
Reaching for a bowlegged tabby that's no longer there.
It's a silver-haired orphan opening another cold can of alone...
A universe of humanity becoming a Hawkins black hole.
Memories like lemon drops slipping from life's crystal bowl.
A trickster stripping away grace and tact long before you're gone.

Grandma Wisdom once said, "Old age isn't for sissies".
A cold rain is coming; I can feel it deep in my bones."
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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