Upon Growing Old

In the upscale retirement home

I see the old men bent,

Bending over their walkers, or

If they have not yet arrived at the walker stage,

Bending over their belts,

Aging as they bend.

And in their grey and greying minds

Shards of memory grope to be remembered,

To be put back in place,

To go back to the sunny days.

And I bend slightly in sympathy. 

--February 23, 2013