An old man in his chair, gazes through the glass
to people rushing past, but no one notices the
loneliness etched beneath the miles of wrinkles
on his weathered face.
The hands of time hold him firmly grasped, with
not even the gift of precious memories to comfort
When did I use the bathroom last? He tried to think.
I wonder who those young folks were that just left
in tears. I don’t know why they were crying-
I’ve never seen them before.
Or was it a month ago, or perhaps a year?
Frustration - then nothing:
except gentle tears slipping unchecked.
No one notices as he slips completely into Alzheimer’s
void. His last singular journey, while the hands of time
never stop revolving.
Robbed of all he once held dear, now to sit in his chair
within these walls- and a pane of glass to watch his
reflection… wishing the loneliness would end.
Challenge- The Hands of Time never Stop
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