Who Weeps For Me When I Am Gone? Poem by Leaking Pen

Happy Thanksgiving

Now that the dust has settled
My true- lack of colour exposed-
Who weeps for me when I am gone?
The end of my last song.

This roller coaster ride we call life
My moment in the summit gone
I lament the passing of youth
My youth bottled up in this truth.

This face of mine as old clay
People perceive the absence of my light
Each wrinkle masks another passing
Time closer to my collapsing.

Into the fold of forgetful memories
My aging mind has no defence
Youth to beauty, life to spring
Old age to life, is my broken string.

Am I too harsh in my poem?
Do I discard old age wisdom?
That comes with the courting of time
That builds character within like an aged wine?

Yet I see what I see what my inner eye sees
Discrimination attached to old age
Poster to poster celebrate my demise
Captures the heart of youth focused eyes

I suppose I once had my glory under the Sun
Should not complain for it not lasting that long
What if I was born in a destitute space?
Where poverty and sickness rule the place

I count each day as a blessing in disguise
It is OK for me to see my mirror cries
As long as my heart beats and my inner ear hears any song
Hope is eternal and to it forever I will belong
I'll walk head high and borrow my remaining time's light
With compassion and good deeds re-set up my flight
Let my mending wings shelter the rains
To all who like me experience similar pains.

November 10,2012
Copyright Leaking Pen 2012