The final complaint.

She had lines on her face

not just the lines of age

but lines of despair

lines of abject misery

lines of continual drudgery.

Deep lines that were witnesses of

long discontented days,

seemingly endless, sleepless nights. 

Lines left by sleep that was not sweet

a sleep that provided no rest.

Gripped, as she was,

by the process of ageing

her mirror held no respite

too late for dreams of a knight

of things that might yet be.

She feared hope 

hope held disappointment.

She found no joy in daily routine 

because she never had.

As her life became narrowed

so her words were increasingly bitter.

There was no more room on her face for lines

but there would be one last line prepared for her

deep in soil when she had made her final complaint. 

Reviews

[Huw]

I knew her and was witness to the slow, but sure deterioration.

[brlockwood]

Makes me think of people who have dreams and aspirations, but never pursue them. Then spend their old age regretting what they didn't do.

[Huw]

Thanks for that I'd completely forgotten about regrets....not that I regret having done so! I'm smiling and I hope you do too.