You just know that it’s coming

It’s those little hints

Old dreams re-appearing

Nightmares sharp as flints

Assume a measured remoteness

As though it’s all in the past

Quick peripheral glimpses

But they’re moving too fast

You’re more receptive than usual

To ideas you once weren’t

Re-consider the unacceptable

And reassess all you learnt

Meanwhile as though cocooning

Pause head cocked, wait a mo

Then continue life’s rituals

With the clock set to slow

Each dream more revealing

Yet still obscured by light clouds

In drift friends long forgotten

Smiling colourless shrouds

Not frightened; more acceptance

Not fearing the “soon”

Part of you quietly sitting

In the waiting room

Senses stripping mist from

Your recent feelings and dreams

Old actions remembered

Familiar old scenes

But you can’t tell a soul

You can’t put it in words

Almost unconscious it sits there

As unnoticed as birds

Gradually withdrawing daily

From the public who throng

Performing their duties

To the birds morning song

You just know that it’s coming

You’re being prepared

By genetic programming

So blind panic you’re spared

In silent communion

The sun on glass tints

Quietly reflective

Re-examine your stint

No sound from the garden

Silent house full sunlit

The hearthside uncluttered

As you quietly sit

Old dreams re-appear

And quite pleasantly call

Your chair full of silence

Your bags in the hall