A Hard Climb Poem by K.S.Subramanian Subramanian

A sonnet for my 85-year old mother)

Time has left its scroll on her;
furrows lined by an obdurate will.
Living was a hard climb, ever
peppered by an emotional squall;
She has had tryst with woes
on the shoulder of a daughter or son;
Footprints the climb leaves in moss.
Now aged, the tempest's howl gone
she watches days sink into time.
In those furrows are embedded
memories of a naive childhood
ripening into a sturdy tree;
Bones now softer by Time's decree,
with a stick on to another climb.