What Are We
It is the grey of evening...soft lamps glow as our hood readies itself for some crumbs of comfort:
Old widows wrap themselves with pillows for third- hand affection,
Children yawn sure as day that mothers will lullaby them like so ,
Single fathers brew coffee to tide them from a hard day's sweat-
Senior men listen to music begging for new memories...
Young ladies lonely shut off their doors... praying Psalm 91,
Grandmothers pick up stale needlework, avoiding
pain of abandonment and senility
It is evening. This is where we are...getting older in wisened thoughts , to gather slivers of reflections, of dreams met and unmet...
And night shivers a bit asking: how will we savor to the pulp, this one beautiful life possessed?
And the light shuts off.
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2024
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