Slowly it seems inside each passing day
with barely a nod as we function and breath,
comes a new symptom that’s barely perceived
as the outer shell ages and starts to betray.
First to be noticed: the silver and gray
scattered amidst the red, brown or black;
blondes, a bit lighter, may fend this attack
yet with nary a blink, we survey.
Then subtle “crows feet,” or smile lines they say,
appear ‘round the eyes nose and mouth
and all that was once trim and perky goes south
as bowing to time, they obey.
Shortly thereafter pain starts to convey
the bones turning brittle and thin,
then brown spots appear on pale parchment skin
as the mind starts to wander and stray
Exacting his toll is this Reaper’s forte
and we are but pawns in his game
Will you slip blindly or fight to remain,
invoking your right to belay
while keeping the monster at bay.
© Ginny Brannan 2017