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