The Way Home
Elderly, she wanders, paths trodden aimlessly
between rare, short bursts of grandchild-focussed activity,
shopping for food, and day-time TV.
Her once discerning eye a wayward stare,
any spring of step long gone
replaced by vagueness of action, and of mind.
That chimerical thing, purpose in life,
is left faintly shimmering, but far behind
as one door closes after the other.
Ahead, a barely perceived sparkling,
pure gentle light, almost a something
to look forward to
as she vanishes, all that she leaves
is the faintest whiff
of lavender water .....
Alan McAlpine Douglas, father to 5 and grandfather to 3, has been writing poetry since 1993. His idiosyncratic voice has produced thousands of poems in this time, and he finds it quite hard to stay serious, even when he means to. He also enjoys writing spoofs, using well-known poems or songs like Clementine or In the Ghetto as his models.
What a gorgeous poem! Well done! - Laura M Kaminski
ReplyDeleteFine and sensitive a poem, one equal I think I would never be able to. Thanks for sharing it at Whispers.
ReplyDeleteNice work, Alan. I enjoyed your poem. Thank you for sharing and continued blessings!
ReplyDelete-MJ (www.tgbtgpublictions.com)
Another fabulous write my friend! I really enjoyed reading this wonderful poem this morning. What a lovely piece, Great work,
ReplyDeleteRussell