Posted in Poems

Is Death mocking the old?

Winter will pass and Spring will return. – pictures by C.E. Pereira

Millions of creases etched.
But it is not crepe paper.
Elasticness long since gone.
It hangs loose on old bones.

Weathered beaten, once strong.
With lines criss-crossing.
Fragile like old parchment.
Covered with crow’s feet.

Wrinkles that tell the story.
Of youth long gone by.
Of life’s trodden path.
A long life, awaiting rest.

Hands lift up in prayer.
Flesh hanging from bones.
A withered body; weary.
The bed, a prison cell.

Lapses that brings fear.
Days overlap with no change.
Dull eyes stare at the walls.
As lips mumble broken prayers.

The finish line seems so near.
But it moves with each step taken.
Is Death mocking the old?
Realing in the catch then letting go.

By C.E. Pereira