Her Senescence
senescence
not something
i am accustomed to
in the semblance
of life
like this tree
i stand here
denuded
as i watch
leaves
falling
down
slipping
through
my hands
unsound
i try
to embrace
them
one by one
as they tumble
only to watch
them perish
before
my eyes
crumbling
in fragments
like memories
buried
in the depths
of mind
silenced
in the shadows
of death
they lay
yet i walk
closer
with each
passing year
wondering
will senescence
become mine
this time
Copyright © Sandra Adams | Year Posted 2019
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