I wanted to get away from your monotonous religious rants on the main boards and read some of your poetry again, in an attempt to find a fresher, more spiritual (though perhaps not quite as spirited) connection in you. This poem illustrates this perfectly.

What a gentle poem this feels to me, with an underlying sadness. Something weathered and resigned about it. It seems to be about getting older, greyer, weaker, forgetfuller, with the scope of the world getting narrower in preparation to leave it. It ends with, not exactly regret, but a longing to live again. Really live, not simply watch yourself fade away. Ugh, although I don't mind growing older, I wish I could be spared this part of my life. I shall dread having less options, less attention and less freedom. The similarity between your first and last stanzas, though slightly contrived, does emphasise the cyclical nature of it all.

How is your gran?