Ellipse of life

The doorbell rings
And flowers are delivered.
Visitors arrive. creep in to see.
Even a casual passer-by will know
If this is a coming or a going.

In the bedroom, centre of attention,
Someone small and wrinkled lies awake,
Too young to smile or speak, or even watch.
All she can do is take
Her mother's milk; cry, excrete, and sleep.
In return, she gives them joy and hope,
Delight in her new life, her innocence.

Bustling woman, seldom sitting down,
Deceives herself that all she does is give
To children, parents, others who to live
Must feed and ask, depend on her, and take.
Sometimes so much to do she doesnt know
If she is coming or going.

In the bedroom, centre of attention,
Someone old and wrinkled lies awake,
Able to smile, but lacking strength to speak.
Nappies again, and needing help to drink;
All she can do is take.
In return her eyes give out her love.
She watches with concern as others grieve
To lose her gifts, not knowing she will leave
A store of wisdom and experience.

The ellipse of life has perfect symmetry,
Wide in the middle, ends
Both gently narrowing.
There is a mystery in
This similarity
of coming and
going