Old Age
At first
It seems to stand
Stone-grey, mould-green
Moss-rooted, rock-bedded.
A chimney pot?
From a long-demolished house?
Past its prime
Lost its purpose
Rejected?
But
Come a little closer
Get to know it better
See what lies within
Listen to its story.
It sparkles, it gleams
All the more beautiful
For being unexpected.
And then
Lean in as intimacy develops
As the story emerges
Bend over and open your eyes.
What do you see?
Do you see yourself? Your story?
The rejection, the loss of purpose?
No not now
The stone which the builders rejected
Once again becomes the corner stone.
Here is light and beauty
Here is joy and hope
Potential even in old age
Even in old age
In old age.
Jane Millinchip