Embers of Life.

Armchair pulled close to the fire’s gentle heat,

a faithful old tabby cat curled at her feet.

Gossamer threads of elusive thought,

struggle to gather each memory sought.

Once deep blue eyes, now paling with age

staring at embers of dying days.

Relentlessly ticking, the clock on the shelf

marks twilight years of fading health.

The battered old tin holds so much from the past,

photos of grandchildren growing so fast.

Searching through images, pets now long gone,

captured in time on a manicured lawn

One almost hidden, beneath all the rest,

pulled out with frail hands, and held to her breast.

Strains of Glen Miller replay in her head

as her mind takes her back to the day she was wed.

So many years, yet life’s still too brief,

so much already spent suffering with grief.

A bitter sweet smile, a single tear shed,

silently grieving for words left unsaid.

Greying head nodding, so heavy, so tired.

Staying awake, so much effort required.

The small pile of photographs slide to the floor

as sleep gently lets her live past times once more.