The anvils on which we were cast
are rusting
The knowledge
In which you instilled
Past
Yet imprinted
We must watch you
wither
slow
will miss you
So sure
that
The mature passes
To silver
To grey
To white
Decay
Dear elder
Must we watch you threadbare
fray
Dear elder
Your children
Dear elder we try
To delay
But cannot stop
As calcium must eventually
Give way
formed from you
a mothers milk
a fathers silk
lapel
passed down link
your bones protrude
And stiff the link
between
As moving requires
The arms of machines
In wards once rooms
We usher you
Hurts to see you fade
Hurts to see
from what
Was made
Wither.