Being old

In advanced years,
When few are the peers,
When dry are the tears,
I feel the fatigue,
I loath the emptiness,
For lack of a purpose.

Solitude gnaws on my soul,
Life has turned foul,
For when youth exits the window,
None can crave for tomorrow.

So I sit and watch,
Life's film rolling by,
Childhood memories unfolding shy,
Mid life memories,
Keeping me smiling,
Sometimes frowning.
Oh how I miss those days,
Yet I feel the satisfaction,
Of being here today.

I tend my garden,
Roses, hibiscus and carnations,
So like my grandchildren,
Young and beautiful,
A reason to be hopeful,
Grateful,
Cheerful,
So that when life's last sleep calls,
I will be caught unawares.

Old age knows death,
Old age regards life,
Short,
Ending as fast as it started.
Still,
Old age accepts death,
A last result,
A price worthless in wealth.

When cold is a day,
Chilling my wrinkled body,
I close my eyes and pray,
Wondering if the cold,
Frosty and glassy,
Will take me to the grave.
The naivety of it!