Elders come from a time
where things were always better
they cling to the branches
of the nostalgia tree ,
sometime stumbling
on a face lost in the clouds.
The old whisper words
of forgotten worlds ,
sometime leaving shreds
of memento in the teapot,
contempling tenderly the sweetness
of an inner shipwreck ,
they become well-behaved children again...
Ancients,leave with their baggage of loneliness
and all those looks that have long since
put them in the past tense ...
Seniors only have weather left ,
always leaving in the winters of summer.,
dressed in a few ceremonials ,
adorned with conventional and the
sadness of the good dog
who won\'t be accompanying
the procession...
The door of eternity slowly closing ,
elderly walking along the garden paths
which falls asleep ,covered with dead leaves
of memory ...