Time has passed and existence has deteriorated.
Life, once new, is no longer.
The winds have blow and the seasons they have changed –
Families and friendships and love tattered by the breeze.
Objects once new have faded.
Dullness has invaded; dusk has set.
Wide eyes now barely open;
Minds are slowly closing; racing pulses settle.
Our muscles growing weary and de-conditioned.
Life, possibly, is like this old house:
Once built, many times improved.
It, too, with time, has grown dilapidated.
A strong roof now leaks;
The fresh coats of paint cracking;
The faucets, oh how they leak!
The wood, oh it rots!
A lovely garden now full of weeds,
The little tree: she no longer flowers.
She stands upright, although withered and dead.
The relic of another generation deteriorates on my land.