Happy Birthday

She gently touches the skin on her face

Where her beauty used to be

The wrinkles reach out for her fingers

Caressing them tenderly

A tear escapes and rolls to her cheek

As she weeps for the years gone by

She paid the debt that time demands

Without ever questioning why

Everything she lived for has passed away

She's left to pickup the pieces

Her memory fades a little each day

Her forgetfulness only increases

She sits by the window and silently stares

As another day comes and goes

Today she turns a hundred years old 

A birthday that destiny chose

She gently touches the skin on her face

Somewhere this story is true

There's no one to sing happy birthday

This woman could one day be you

Reviews

[Theresa]

Such an elegance to your style, the flow, the word choice and the emotion. I admire how you bring it all together from beginning to end. Such talent!

[Daniel]

I wish I could sing happy birthday to my deceased mother, sad poem.

[Kait]

This is absolutely wonderful.

[afra]

awwww so sad ...but i love the flow ....overall beautiful poem