“Hands, Aged, Elderly, Old, Senior” by Pixabay (2014)

A short poem I wrote about old age, its inevitability and those affected by it.  Written on the 27th May 2016.


Her veins are cerulean,
She’s growing cold.
Her hands are shaking,
They’re getting old.
Her smile is withering,
Her years unfold.
I say my goodbyes,
To this hand I hold.

6 thoughts on “Adieu

  1. I feel inspired by your work- so if I may:
    His voice shivers with his heart’s beat/ in his mind a whirlwind grasps at the heat/ the heat of past summers evenings/ orange to purple, fades to black beginnings/ hands remembering his lover’s tears/ bloodied, drenched in his fears…/ He craves nothing more than home/ A place to rest from his terrors

    Liked by 1 person

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