Waning away
Standing fore a mirror, I think of you, lost in those eyes, my reverie ensues. Playful, cheerful, Ah! what fun, wrinkles of time had touched you none. You worked when it mattered like a diligent sleuth, whiled away the rest, sometimes carelessly, to tell you the truth. Bright eyes, free heart, innocence from which pleasure others derive, in the ebbs and flows of your laughter the world felt alive. Now all is on the wane, rickety structure in lieu of a sinewy frame. Silent betrayal growing day by day, all around coursing senile decay. Around the eyes are wrinkles many fold, deep lines on forehead in a clouded mind's hold. Trembles and tremors are companions constant, oiling every organ is ever so important. Oh well! It can't be helped, nature will take it's course, "No regrets" is the mantra to a life without remorse. I look away from the mirror, feeling cold, after all I am you, just a little old. P.S: This year’s first post/poem. It’s about growing old. How at...