Old Age

• Marylyn Alagha
• Poetry
• 2015

A withered flower about to wither away,
with companions like the bees, pleading me to stay.
Once a strong lady, now I've come of age,
I can no longer see the rush, it is time to turn the page.
Grey auras flowing from the world around,
the vibrant colours are in a halt, no longer they surround.
However there is a wisdom that I can share,
the wonderful, wondrous ways that I have dedicated days to display.
A wisdom that will hopefully make the buds want to bare
the true facts of the wise old ages way.
Old age is the release from a cargo train's load, finally at peace,
as the memories of my youth flash away before me.