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Mona Lisa
Member

since 1999-08-25

Posts 100
Halifax, Nova Scotia

0 posted 1999-10-08 08:59 PM

The window of the past, she opened up one day.
The curtains she drew back, her memories to display.
She wished to reminisce, of times that were far spent.
To think of yesteryear, and relieve past events.

A little girl she saw, with future budding bright,
with baby doll in hand, and scattered toys in sight.
Her hair in pony tail, and clad in frilly dress.
In her world all was well, and nothing could oppress.

Those were her wonder years, her time to learn and grow.
And with inquiring mind, much knowledge she did stow.
So joyous was her life, contentment was sublime.
Forever young she'd be, and always in her prime.

Young woman she became, and beauty was her friend.
The day was hers to seize, on time she could depend.
In youthood she did bask, so restless, young and free.
Long length of life was hers, she made it her decree.

But then to her dismay, a wrinkle she did find.
Old age was creeping in, her doom had been assigned.
Her hair was turning gray, her bones becoming weak,
Of all the things she tried, her future still looked bleak.

Indeed her fate was sealed, had crept up unawares.
Her youth had bid goodbye, comfirming her worst fears.
Her time had come and past, the door had now been closed.
The end was drawing near, the law of life imposed.

She'd forced herself to tears, and thought herself to gloom,
as all alone she sat, in a dark and lonely room.
She wished that she could walk and wished that she could run.
And longed she could enjoy, the rays of summer sun.

A single tear fell down, her worn and wrinkled face.
She reached for a tissue, with slow and shakey pace.
The tears she wipes away, in the truth and its ferments.
And 'til her dying day, her youth she will lament.

caroline
Senior Member

since 1999-08-16

Posts 1218
http://members.xoom.com/belladona123/index.htm

1 posted 1999-10-08 09:06 PM

How sad that she could not rejoice in the gift of growing old. I like this poem...I think there are many who will relate to looking over a shoulder at the past.

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"Tread softly, for I have spread my dreams under your feet"~~William Butler Yeats

Dr.Moose1
Member Elite

since 1999-09-05

Posts 3448
Bewilderment , USA

2 posted 1999-10-08 09:10 PM

Quite moving , and of a style which I am familiar with . Also , of a feeling with... unfortunately .

Denise

Moderator

Member Seraphic

since 1999-08-22

Posts 22648

3 posted 1999-10-08 09:12 PM

Very well done. I enjoyed this story.

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Denise

Mona Lisa
Member

since 1999-08-25

Posts 100
Halifax, Nova Scotia

4 posted 1999-10-08 09:16 PM

Thanks to all of you for your nice compliments. I thought of the aloneness that some elderly people feel when they are all alone and no one comes to visit and keep them company. It is in situations like that, that a senior will be forced to rely on nothing but memories to pass away the time. So sad indeed, but I have seen it first hand as I used to work in with seniours.

Makes me want to be more aware of the pain that the elderly face as they grow old.

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