Time, slipping away, like sand through spread fingers.
As each grain of sand drops, a new wrinkle forms,
Crepey skin covering bones that ache and become hollow.
Strands of hair fade to grey and become colorless,
Eyelashes and eyebrows follow the trend.
Memory grows weak as the vision of death becomes stronger,
The inevitable end, reaching out with skinny, icy fingers,
An irreversible touch.
Knees became wobbly,
Fingernails frail,
The thick scent of desperation in the air
As their minds fill with confusion.
The devilish hands ache for another to take,
Blindly reaching for that satisfaction.
The energy is low to fight the wanting hands any longer;
Bedtimes become more and more early,
Long nights, but such short days
For time slips away
Just like sand through spread fingers.