Age

By pom99

Wed, 03 Sep 2014
  • 2273 reads
6 comments
 

And sometimes you realize that old age is just the unravelling of yarn,
From a beautiful old sweater,
that made you look chic when you were young.
The strands of yarn loosen themselves to be their soft selves,
Shapeless and unassuming,
Waiting for kind hands to mould them
Into new threads of life.

Certificate U
Poem
my rants

Comments

Submitted by frankle on

I love the idea of getting someone else to help re-knit/re-mould a long tired life. Short but makes the point about age wel pom 99. 

 

Submitted by pom99 on

Thank you frankle

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

Lovely metaphor.

Submitted by pom99 on

Thank you Philip. 

Submitted by VeraClark on

Hi Pom, a warming poem and your woolley theme is a comforting one rather than the usual age-related negatives that creep into poetry. Unravelling's missing an 'l.' 

 

Submitted by pom99 on

Hello Vera, 

Thanks for your valuable feedback and also for pointing out the missing 'l'.