As the years races through the night

autumn

Another year has passed.
Another birthday celebrated.
The body tires more each day.
It has become frail and smaller.

Still strong in many ways.
Even though tiredness sets in fast.
Always pottering around the house.
Keeping the mind occupied and alert.

To be fixed with hearing aid.
Lots of medicine to take daily.
The eyesight detoriating more.
Getting up off a chair is painful.

I watch my mother aging daily.
Each activity she loses is hard.
Yet, as independent as she can be.
As determined to do things for herself.

A birthday dinner in her honour.
Family gathered to celebrate with her.
The Majestic Hotel we dined at.
My mother smiling, we smile.

Little pockets of sunshines and bubbles.
Each birthday a celebration of life.
Yet, a heaviness on the heart is felt.
As the years races through the night.

This is the cycle of life.
The fountain of youth gone.
Dusk approaching, almost night.
Only God knows the hour of zero.

Youth did not dwell on growing old.
Middle age hides from the obvious.
I fear to reach my mother’s age.
Will there be one to care for me?

By C.E. Pereira
(9-4-2016)

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4 thoughts on “As the years races through the night”

  1. I think many of us wonder about our futures as we need help. I have no answers. I liked your line “Little pockets of sunshines and bubbles.” Those are increasingly important. A thought provoking poem.

    Like

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