Twilight's Quiet Melancholy Poem by Wangchat konyak

In yonder days of youthful glee,
My mother's eyes did brightly gleam,
Her hair a crown of golden beam,
But time, relentless, has its fee.

For now her eyes are dimmed and veiled,
Her locks no longer shine so bright,
The wrinkles, like streams in pale moonlight,
Upon her face, a story unveiled.

Slowly she walks, frail and weak,
Falling ill with each passing week,
She's not the same, this truth I seek,
Growing old, while I am meek.

Oh, how the years do swiftly pass,
As childhood days, they fade like glass,
My mother's age, a burden alas,
I'm unskilled for life's morose morass.