Photo by Natalya Zaritskaya on Unsplash

Growing up,
We never realise,
That our parents
Grow up too.

For we are
Too young,
In our formative years.
Too lost,
In our adolescence.
Too busy,
Living, the time of our lives
In our twenties.

We are born
In their thirties,
If only we could hear their stories
As they reminisce
The days of the past decade.

We have no sense of time,
While they cross their middle ages,
As we learn to walk, to talk,
To feel, to befriend,
To learn of the world and its oddities.

We become too overwhelmed,
Rather busy, creating memories
Of the first drive, the first love,
The first job, the first car,
The first home.

And when it’s time
To return the ocean of love,
We realise that we’ve forgotten
To watch them grow
As they have watched us
Silently, patiently.

We never know
When the wrinkles adorned their skin,
When the strands of hair fell, gracefully,
And wisps of silver took their place.
When the crescent under their eyes
Grew heavier, as they grew wiser.
When they lost the freshness
And vigour of their youth.
When a pair of spectacles
Perched on their noses.
When their bodies
Could no longer run.

In our journey,
We forget about theirs,
Even if, all along,
The destinations were
To carpe diem.

National Poetry Month: 10/30

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