A BITTER TASTE OF AGE
Inside the mind memories come and go
like elusive shadows on the wall.
Behind the film of blinding cataracts
lie images of the past.
Behind silent parched lips ring
songs of
yesteryear.
Flared, hairy nostrils may still
detect the fragrance of a rose.
Ears long
shut to conversation
now hear only echoes from the past.
Strangers come and go.
Dignity exists
in flash-backs
to sunny afternoons.
Bent, fragile body with weighted legs
now sits alone
in submission to
life's deal, waiting, waiting.
Joyce O'Neal