full circle

Alone, the stairs take less than seven seconds,
behind my mother, multiply by ten.
I'm here to catch her if The Reaper beckons,
I've felt his shadow - now he's here again.

The wheel has turned, the images reverse,
time was she guided my first faltering walk;
but now, the rose of beauty that was hers
is just dried petals on a withering stalk.

URL: http://mourne.org/schadenfreude.htm