Staying Alive

The days drift on,

with nothing much achieved;

for my father, for myself,

just growing older.

These scales we’re on

weigh heavily on my side.

I give him my hours, my minutes, my seconds

and like a small child with no thought

for the parent

he takes them greedily,

his life shadow lengthening.

What if I can’t outlive him?

What then?

What if there are no more years left

to tumble free?

© Susan Jane Sims

This poem was written last Summer at a Second Light residential writing retreat in Worcestershire. The theme for the week was time.

Second Light is a network of women poets.