Posted in Poems

Growing old


I never really looked at this lady.
Or notice the wrinkles appearing.
Nor that frail look of the elderly.
I didn’t see her growing old.

She is always there, energetic.
Never one to laze about, always busy.
Somewhere in time I took for granted,
That growing old didn’t include this person.

I didn’t want to see her grow old.
I’m not ready to reverse our roles.
I’m selfish, she’s tired and frail.
But still determined and independent.

When I look closely now,
I see her frailty.
I watch, ready to help.
But never taking away her dignity.

She uses her walker, she’s fast.
I scold her, she pouts.
Her time now spent on reading,
The tele and newspaper, her link to the outside.

Time cannot be stopped, only lost.
We wake up one day, years have flown.
Where has it gone, we ask.
The future is here, we’re not prepared.

How could I not see her grow old?
I took a lot of things for granted.
Then one day I looked at my Mum,
And my heart weeps for time is so very short.

By C.E. Pereira