This poem was written in response to the ever growing problem our elderly are facing. So many elderly are left to wither in apartments, houses or senior citizen homes - they lack human contact and are ignored by the younger society. Volunteer your time - affect someone who is lonely or who has no family.
He is old -
As if life itself was creaking,
Like one big porch swing.
So many years -
Like the rusty links of a chain
needing to be oiled,
From so much wear as time jolts
taking it's tole.
His bones lay -
weathered and splintering
like old boards.
His skin, missing the radiant glow
Of it's youthful shellac,
Now wrinkled, grayed
And aging.
If not left in corner somewhere
under a layer of dust;
If well oiled with respect-
He will glide,
Carrying you on many adventures.
Memories will flow
like a welcomed breeze on a humid,
Summer night.
And he will bask in "usefulness"
Again.
Not ill and forgotten
in the darkened storage of loneliness.
--- Amber© All rights reserved. Dec.12, 1995
