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Feb 2019
And forth came a glimpse
Of a withered face,
In the broken mirror,
That stands behind the curtain lace
Grey, messy hair bun,
Wrinkle filled sunken eyes
A heavy set of, glass rests
On the nose, pointing skies
The fresh mint tea brew
Excits, the twitched lips
Oh, dear I miss thee -
Thy soul that rips
Guide these trembling hands
To thank in a prayer
The lousy back won't help
For my walker, has lost a pair
Dragging one leg by other
As I sit by the fireplace
Sipping the fragranced tea
Rocking my chair in a pace
Thousands of memories
Rail down my alzheimers head
So many years gone
Now, it's just me and my empty bed
Tears fill and spill by its own will
I got to pack up, for I to, have to leave
Leaving all memories behind
In a slient place to grieve
A small room, I am spared to
At the golden age gardenia
I am almost gone from myself
Just few threads, hanging near...



©sim
Recently, visited the Golden Age Home. So many old and left alone people with sorrowful eyes greeted. Inspired.
Seema
Written by
Seema  38/F/Fiji Islands
(38/F/Fiji Islands)   
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