The Final Bend
Time goes unconquered with passing seasons,
While we journey on searching for our reasons.
We realize the battle's lost, we have aged,
Our youth and strength gone, we're at the last page.
There's a tinge of fear, a human apprehension,
Of what the future will be, our end, our conclusion.
As the days turn to nights, and nights to days,
That's the clock inside us reminding us always.
When we find the eyes blur and ears fail to hear,
We forget the names of those we love dear.
Each day brings us closer to that final bend
Like a leaf from the tree, to the ground we end.
Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~~11.01.17
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The browning leaves heeding winter's call bestrewn the ground at the end of fall And mortal man coming round the bend Like falling leaves, we'll come to an end Thank you for your lovely poem.