The Dread
When my mother got old she changed from
an eagle into a sparrow, her false teeth kept
falling out; porridge and soup her diet.
When on the loo, she called nurse and said:
“I’ve crapped, come, dry my bum.”
In ten years time, I’ll be as old as she was
when she died; time isn’t slowing down, will
not stop, for a minute, so I can catch my breath.
It is painful to think that I may end up as her.
There will be no one who will love me then.
AucklandPoetry.com presents Poet Resident JAN OSKAR HANSEN on http://OSKAR.AUCKLANDPOETRY.COM
Monday, August 13, 2007
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