Let us pray to
the demons of time
and old age.


Let us beg absolution
from our wrinkled skins,
and our hair, the color
of cremated doves.


Let us beseech the heavens
to stop this constant loss
of joy, this slow dulling
of the heart.


We are
silent old soldiers
alone with our terror.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-brother-to-memory/