Death Before Dying

As years swept past, old age arrived,
the grey replaced his jet-black hair.
His eyes of blue need lens to see
An aid in ear is placed with care.
The fatigue of time has no relief
the once vibrant mind is dull.
A stick of ebony helps him walk
the physical grief has taken its toll.
Why can’t he remember me?
He sees me and sees my mother.
his wife who passed so long ago,
each visit is slowly killing me
I want my dad, not his shadow.
I grieve for man he once was
as he knows nothing of me.
In his memory, he is still young,
a soldier fresh from war,
my mother by his side in white,
he’s lost to memory now
as he slips further she holds him closer
his bride wants him with her to stay.


© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.