Stirs its ashes and embers, its burnt sticks <br /> <br />An eye powdered over, half melted and solid again <br />Ponders <br />Ideas that collapse <br />At the first touch of attention <br /> <br />The light at the window, so square and so same <br />So full-strong as ever, the window frame <br />A scaffold in space, for eyes to lean on <br /> <br />Supporting the body, shaped to its old work <br />Making small movements in gray air <br />Numbed from the blurred accident <br />Of having lived, the fatal, real injury <br />Under the amnesia <br /> <br />Something tries to save itself-searches <br />For defenses-but words evade <br />Like flies with their own notions <br /> <br />Old age slowly gets dressed <br />Heavily dosed with death's night <br />Sits on the bed's edge <br /> <br />Pulls its pieces together <br />Loosely tucks in its shirt<br /><br />Ted Hughes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-age-gets-up/
