The Loneliness of Age
When the moon is full, I am cold,
I weary of life; I’m growing old:
Days in number: now a tidy sum,
Wonder when I too will succumb?
It’s time to recall events of yesterday:
Family members that have gone away.
With their voices now beyond recall,
I miss them one; I miss them all!
Friends too are leaving in some haste,
With but few left, there’s none to waste:
Must stay in touch with those now left,
For when they go, I’ll be left bereft!
My children? They left home long ago;
Their children too, scarce wish to know
That old folks like me, their ancient kin
Seldom speak of where I have been.
I grow slower each and every day,
Often wonder why I get this way?
Am I victim of my tedious years?
Recalling past events, oft shed tears
For those, for whom I never grieved:
My Life too busy, or so I then believed.
Now I’ve time for regrets unspoken,
My pointless words, are but a token.
When dawn breaks tomorrow morn,
One of so many since I was born,
I’ll approach the day with trepidation,
Knowing there’ll be further dilapidation.
Yes, life is hard upon my aging frame,
What once was strong, is not the same
Yet my resolve: a stubborn rock it seems,
Still allows me to pursue my dreams!
I must remain positive in thought,
Or future days would be as naught
Hard though it is to plan ahead;
It surely beats my being dead!
Rhymer. January 13th, 2018
Copyright © Denis Barter | Year Posted 2018