Time passes.

Withered

Her hand frail against the withered fronds as she rearranged the flowers

For time had sold them short.

 

Joyful

Her youthful stance and gaze, as glorious bride in the gaily painted photo-frame

Captured in the stillness of time framed by the care-home mantle-piece.

 

Anguish

Forgetting fettered fragile moments of family-time,

Lost forever in the timelessness of a fretful mind.

 

Peacefulness

Her pain receding as the hands of time hold her soul

Serene against the backdrop of a moonlit sky.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

This for poetics at d’verse. We were asked to explore something we couldn’t touch. It is coming up for the 10th anniversary of my mum passing away and she never got to be old so she never experienced losing her memories.

Author: alisonhankinson

I am a school teacher and a mum and a red cosmic skywalker, and sometimes a netball coach...but beneath it all I am a writer...

21 thoughts on “Time passes.”

  1. These anniversaries are so difficult, Alison, and I’m with you all the way on this. You’ve captured the ageing process, the slow fade and then disappearance of a loved one, and not only made it your own but also made it familiar to others. The alliteration in the first and third stanzas is particularly effective – I remember how my mum mumbled and lisped before she lost speech altogether and the anguish in her face when she so desperately wanted to communicate with me. The final stanza made me cry.

    Liked by 1 person

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