The Color of Love

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Tonight at d’Verse, Sarah asked us to consider the word red, with all its many meanings. These red petals falling reminded me that in the winter of our lives love lives on!

As red petals fall

Ephemeral beauty fades

Our love never ends

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Painting: Dwight L. Roth

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Secrets of Aging

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     Aging carries with it secrets many are reluctant to tell. When one spouse begins experiencing dementia, the other often compensates by keeping it a secret as long as possible.
We saw this with my father-in-law a number of years ago. As he began to be confused at times, she would write the directions or an address on an index card for him to carry along, in case he forgot.
In one instant he came from volunteering at the local hospital and could not remember where he had parked his car. It took him two hours and some help from the staff to find it.
In time the secrets of dementia reveal themselves. At that point hard family decisions have to be made regarding the future.

Secrets of aging
Will always reveal themselves
Winter closes in…

Today at d’Verse, Merril asked us to think about secrets. They come in many forms, but none so sad as when we age. These are secrets we ususally can’t keep.

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Winter Reflections (a Sonnet) 2

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A sonnet consists of 14 lines structured into two parts. The first part gives an “argument” and the second part a “solution” separated by a “volta” (a turn), in the italian sonnet the argument consists of the first octet leaving the last sextet for the resolution.  Today at d’Verse Poets Pub, Bjorn introduced us to different forms of the sonnet. I am attempting to write my first Italian sonnet. It includes my thoughts on aging in this winter time of my life.

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Jilly asked us to use enjambment, which is punctuation that reflects the meaning we want to project. This is my revised version with punctuation added.

In this gray, leafless winter time of life;
When reflection dominates my thinking;
And, age blankets memory; snowy, cold, twinkling;
Covering over old pain, hurt, and strife.
Forgetting past, and sometimes the present,
I contemplate my future things to come.
Will old age smile on the end of my run;
Or, can I peacefully pass on content?
Life still goes on, independent of us,
New changes will come, without our consent;
All I can do is watch, and make a fuss;
But, if I have no choice about this chatter,
Why should I worry, or fret with resentment?
To stay, or leave, does not really matter.

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

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The Last Lap

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When we grow old, we take that last lap not by choice but because that is the way our life has worked itself out. It is difficult to push through the pain to the finish line but we have no choice. The last lap is there for all of us to run, be it early in life or late.

The Last Lap

The last lap it seems

always hardest to run

when winter comes late

 

Pressing // straining toward the mark

When strength is gone // the end near

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photo: photosuggest.com