Growing old

When I get old and hairs turn grey
And memories slowly fade away.
My eyesight fails and I can't see
Crippled by arthritis I may be.
My creaky joints, I hobble slow
Catching my breath as we go.
I lose my hearing and, 'what did you say?'
You find yourself repeating things many times, every day.
Will you find me a bother, maybe a nuisance,
Dislike spending time with me, can't stand my presence?

My child, it's not that I want to be
This useless old woman that became me.
There was once long ago when I wasn't like this.
When I could soothe and comfort you with just one kiss.
When I could pick you up when you fell down
And you loved it when I swung you round and round.
I used to be able to do everything.
But I can't do them now, I'm old; I'm aging.

The price that I paid as I watched you grow
Was me being me, and growing old.
I'm not the mommy that I used to be
But in my eyes, you will always be my darling baby.

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Inspired by a stranger whom I had chanced upon one day while I was on my way to work. She had a head full of grey hair, which was neatly tied into a ponytail. 

Standing behind her on the escalator, she got me thinking about how I would be when I grew old.

A little sad, a little wistful, but aging with all the illnesses that come along with old age are passages of time that we all have to go through.