I’ve a bronze star in front of me,
But all stars fade away with time.
The season for travel is over.
No more good foods and drink.
All the days are passing and
Sleep is in abundance.
Even Sister Catherine who diligently
Would come to visit as a regular,
Has been reduced to a pawn on a chess board.
Airways narrow, bodies decline
Minds draw blank between…
Lost and foreign to self,
To the ability.
Broken
I see so many broken
With just enough sentence form
Or movement to state there is
Something still alive.
Unwilling to give up and throw
The final towel in defeat.
-Sonja J Phinney © 20-Sep-2007
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