Growing Old Poem by Alfred Ramos

It was the twilight of our life
Calendar pages fall like autumn leaves
Changing color in the fabric that nature weaves
We hold hands like rusty nails hold a rotted fence
Windswept irony that makes no common sense
Our hearts have withered in the race with Father Time
Mole hills become mountains we can’t climb
The harsh sky screams in red and yellow
What was once serene and pacific is now a distant mellow
So now we gaze into a mirror of fractured glass
See only the pieces of our broken past
A heart pierced with a twisted arrow
Reaches into the deepest crevice of the marrow
Faltering in a swirling wind a dying sparrow
Now all promises have been forsaken
Fortuitous secrets will never be awaken
The ache of loneliness snuggles in our veins
Cobwebbed memories is all that remains
As we stumble towards our shallow grave
Our shadows overtakes us and drowns with one last wave
Darkness calling with a callous careless echo
Time stops not knowing which way to go
We could have told you as we breeched the womb
The path to serenity would end in our tomb