There is a fading
That creeps upon you,
In the busyness of life.
One that you don’t realise,
Is nigh upon you,
Until your breath,
Is lost in its mist;
And when you try
To reach out,
To touch that whiff,
You see each finger,
Gently disappear,
As if it were never here,
And it is then,
That it occurs to you –
That you are fading.

There is a fading
That is welcome,
One you’ve waited for,
For far too long.
So when you see them disappear,
Each bony finger,
You breathe a sigh of relief,
And prepare to give in,
To the approaching fading.

Image credit: Photo by Dewang Gupta on StockSnap