Mourning the Years

Ageing is a mourning process, A string of losses that ever increase, A growing hole of grief and sadness, For long-gone days and distant memories. Ageing is a state of mourning, Interwoven with life’s daily flow, Time grows heavy as it starts dawning, Some fond memories are from decades ago. Ageing is a slumber of sadness, For times that were and things that could, For moments completely free and careless, Where years of youth ahead still stood. Ageing is a crumbling, cruel decay, Gnawing at every body and mind, Strength and appearance slowly fade away, Leaving restrictions, dependency, confusion behind. Ageing is a heartbreak of final goodbyes, An increasing occurrence of such tragedies, And it’s usually too late when you realise That old friends have become distant memories.