The Road Of Age Poem by Aisha Sherazi

I've driving down a street,
On a sunny day,
People on the street,
Turn and look my way.

I spy an old woman,
She's walking oh so slow,
Her steps so very careful,
Her face does truly glow.

She's not in a hurry,
She's trying her best,
Her body isn’t listening,
It simply wants to rest.

She looks at the sky,
On her stick she leans,
She's smiling at the sun,
Recalling all her dreams.

I turn the corner now,
And leave her way behind,
She's taking so long,
But doesn't seem to mind.

And then up ahead,
I see a young man,
Riding rollerblades,
Just because he can.

He turns and swerves,
So very gracefully,
His helmet and kneepads,
Worn so tastefully.

Will they ever meet?
The lady and this man?
Will she catch up?
I don't think that she can.

Do they even know,
They're on the Road of Age?
The road the shows,
The first and last stage.

The stages of life,
Of maturity and fun,
Of pleasure and pain,
All things are truly One.

All made by a Hand,
That satisfies our needs,
All praise be to Him,
The Road of Age He feeds.