Rhythms slowing down to let seniors catch their
breath in moments of slow dancing.
Abbreviated times, taking a leisurely stroll down
pathways of their minds.
Living on edges of a final horizon, watching the
younger ones stepping into our places.
One day soon to take over as we wend our ways onto
a final path towards our sunsets, where death awaits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem