Senility's Tightrope Co-Write With Paul Callus
She sits in silence at the end of day
Beside the fire that barely warms the air
Her mind in anguish, threads that tend to fray
Companionless, within a room austere.
Like a carousel swirling around me
Are faces, places, traces of my life
These disjointed images confound me
Recollections sliced by a jagged knife.
The curtains drawn; the door chains are in place
Her thoughts are roaming down the paths of night
A hint of sadness settles on her face
As shadows flicker in the waning light.
There was a man, can’t remember his name
But such fine features graced his handsome face
My wild, young heart his soothing words would tame
As I danced with him in chantilly lace.
She can’t help thinking of the years that pass
The complications of advancing age
Life hard to handle just like fragile glass
Progressive weakness in initial stage.
How easily we swayed across the floor
Effortlessly as an orchestra played
An oceanside hall at some unknown shore
Lord knows, I felt like such a lucky maid!
She fears the fading of a priceless stock
Each recollection slipping from her grip
Memorabilia gathered round the clock
Accumulated in her lifetime trip.
Oh, to feel young and pain-free one more time
But this man’s gone now, and with him, my hope
My mind wanders back to days of my prime
As I tread on senility’s tightrope.
*Poem co-written by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
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