Pocket Memories

Inspiration: Working in an elderly care home

On a sunny sunday morning the trees will sigh, they will miss you as a girl when you felt alive
In the mirror, a face that looks thinner
Someone you don’t know
In the bottom of your pocket,
is a bundle of stories that you can no longer share
You see a face that looks fair
You will think to yourself that life isn’t fair, as a women in uniform combs your hair
As you sit on a throne and pretend you’re the heir
You will look down to see just a rocking chair
Then stare into cream walls in a home that’s not sweet, praying what you feel is far from defeat
There’s a heater in your room to warm up your feet
Because you’re always cold and you feel love from the heat
But one sunny sunday morning
You will pluck up the courage
To turn your head and finally speak
“Why must I grow old?”
A secret like that has never been told, you get what you’re given and your life has been sold
You wished away your youth and now you feel old
Your body may have wrinkled but your mind and your soul
Is deep in your pocket free for for you to hold
With your stories and memories that make you so bold...
It’s a matter of time until your blood runs cold

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