Old age, how will
You treat me
When we meet.
With grey in my hair
And more, with each
Passing day susceptible
To health weaknesses
Lightly camouflaged
By humour, while
Making my way cautiously
Through ignominies heaped.
Reminiscences sad echo
Awaken
Mourning, with hindsight
Lost youths garden passed
When, love guided me
To your door.
Still, your image in
Reverence bright, hails my
Unflinching heart
Brave sentinel true,
In gathering tendrils
Of quiet,
I’ve not forgotten you.
Read Poem: IN TENDER MEMORY, by Karen Ryan
WILDsound Festival 