Her Life’s Not Done

Her life’s not done at one hundred and one.

She passes her time in the warmth of the sun.


She sits in the sunroom, confined to a chair,

wondering what she’s doing in there.


All is gone of the life she once knew.

except for a fleeting memory or two.


With no place to go, she feels empty inside.

“Please,” she asks. “Can we go for a ride?”


When life’s not done at one hundred and one,

must we be content to just sit in the sun?


Is there nothing else left at one hundred and one?

Author Notes

17 Comments for “Her Life’s Not Done”


Hmmmm… You make me think of my mother… only 81 and she is the picture of your poem. Feeling useless she sits in a chair in the darkened corner of the living room most all of her day. She cries because she feels useless, a burden to my dad and her children, and no matter how many times we assure her it is ok, that we love her, that her life is a blessing… she cannot see it. Bored, her mind is faltering and forgetting, memories lost and fleeting from day-to-day. It is sad, to see someone you love like this whether it be eighty-one or one-hundred and one.

Here is a link to a poem about my mother, if you are interested, sitting in a chair. It’s title is Life Unlived. https://www.writerscarnival.ca/life-unlived/

Nice write, Lina.
Write On!


Thanks, Becky. I read yours too. Very good imagery. It is sad, no matter the age. 81 is way too young. It’s hard to watch a parent or any loved one deteriorate.




So sad! Reminds me of my grandma at 99. Her biggest complaint is boredom. Great insight into what happens when we age..

Tim Hillebrant


I’m okay to live to 101- as long as I’m not being spoon-fed baby food while sitting in a diaper with nothing left of my mind or sense of self. That’s a tragedy, not a life.

Well written, Lina!



Thanks for reading it, Craig. I wrote this about a woman who used to sit near the receptionist’s desk at a nursling home I worked in. She was 101. Always wanted to go outside. Employees used to take her out around the grounds.


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