Now, at the fag end of life,
home alone, in an empty nest,
I wrestle with my waning memory, fogged under
receding hairline and furrowed brow.
Misplacing things, is a daily affair,
forgetfulness, my constant companion.
Simple tasks seem daunting,
what I did in a jiffy, now takes ages.
Today, the mirror reflects my withered shell,
but beneath it, I am still a beautiful soul.
As I glance back at the rear view mirror of life,
I have realized that, it is futile confronting the loss of youth.
In graceful acceptance of old age, with all its quirkiness,
lies the key to happiness!