It’s been a long time since Old Age crept up behind me,
since she began nudging me down this darkening path.
Her quiet voice whispers soothingly:
“It’s all right. Don’t be afraid.
The last chapter is always the best.”
Proceeding with faltering steps,
I hear crunching sounds under my feet,
They are the sounds of dried memories,
of faded loves, past joys, retreating sadness.
It’s all right. Don’t be afraid.
Trees are never as eloquent
As when they turn red and gold,
when they shed their leaves in a last hurrah.
And shortened days bring early stars,
lighting up the skies of tomorrow.
When the sun departs behind brown hills,
it leaves a glorious trail of yellows, pinks and lilacs.
The last chapter is yet to be written,
So words must be carefully chosen
and punctuation, precise and true.
At the end of this path, I’ll find a gossamer door,
a soft opening between the Here and the There.
When the last twilight dissolves into night,
illuminate me! Wrap me in the nebula of beginning again.
View Helen's Biography by clicking AUTHOR'S BIOGRAPHIES in right panel.
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