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Growing Old

Humbling ties that bind
Tucked neatly in one’s soul
There to be collected
When all withered and old
Our eyes will mist
And hearts will tug
When we think of
A loved ones hug
Children grow up
Leave safety of arms
Hardly drop in at all
Despite tears or charms
We learn to accept
The cost of being alone
Old age really hurts
And they rarely ever phone
It is true that time and love
Are but a treasured loan
God’s gift to us all
Until he calls us home

Written for my dear Gramma
whom I love with all my heart and soul and ,
miss immensely!

December 2010

© 62314 - all rights reserved.

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