At the old people’s home
a stooping with age lady,
silver -dripped years in her hair.
a clamp in the heart.
Flapping, in the barbed-wire cage of her body,
the soul is wounded.
Tears trickle down her wrinkled cheeks.
Her solitude, beyond endurance.
A trembling old man
is standing a little farther on.
Do not eye the bent down with the years body;
it used to be a strong vessel
when crossing the seas of life with ardour.
But now, the many misfortunes
have crushed it.
An old salt as he is,
he goes down with his ship.
His solitude, beyond endurance.
The old bodies, shattered vessels…
wreckage washed ashore
on their last course.
Their solitude, beyond endurance.
© Ann Marie Zagorianos.