Every day I see her,

In her pain

And silent sadness,

As she crumbles before my eyes.



The symptoms she shows are many,

- the way she awkwardly tries

to lower herself down into a chair.

- the strands of gray that

stop to mingle with her fading

black hair,

- the countless seconds it

takes her to conquer one stair.



No deadly disease is to blame,

No fatal accident,

The villain has many different names.



Although it is in numerous forms,

It is none other than old age.



I wish there was something I could do,

To stop the ticking of the clock.

If only I knew how,

To bring back the spring in her walk.



The light in her eyes,

The glow of her face-

I see only the wrinkles,

Which I cannot erase.



It's saddening to see

Her become what I once was,

She who used to care for me,

As only a mother does.