Fading Away, by Ron Bidwell

Transcribed from ABC Radio.

The room is airy, full of light,
for most, it would be a delight.

But, there is no doubting that
my mum does miss her granny flat.

For there are no familiar sights nor sounds,
in her retirement home surrounds.

Except for her own easy chair,
and her bedside dresser, worse for wear.

And there, upon that bedside dresser,
family photographs, God bless her.

Each a footprint on life’s widing road,
or a bridge, ‘neath which much water’s flowed.

Resting in her favourite easy chair,
sunshine haloing her silver hair.

With those once-sparking hazel eyes,
showing now the mood of cloudy skies.

She seems much smaller still, and very frail.
just marking time along life’s trail.

Without the verve of yesterday,
My dearest mum’s fading away.

I would love to take her in my arms,
and mend her hurts, and ease her qualms.

And protect her from all outside forces,
with all the strength of my resources.

Gently, lovingly, I’ll hold her
and rest her head, upon my shoulder.

As she did for me, in days of yore,
and hold her safely, evermore.

hear the original recording at https://soundcloud.com/1233newcastle/poem-fading-away-by-ron-bidwell-read-by-richard-fidler

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