The feel of a hand
So worn and strong
A final exhale, impossibly long
Words left unsaid
At a hospital bed
Too late, the moment is gone
Two brothers cock fists
At each other’s face
Crossing a line
That cannot be erased
And me, an old man
Full of unfulfilled dreams
Wasted potential
And silent screams
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
"I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung." ~ Rabindranath Tagore
- bard
- A mixture of poet and musician, warrior and philosopher, the bard, having grown weary of trying to find his place in the modern world, retired to the Lonely Bard Inn to contemplate his future. He is often seen drinking or writing alone (a personification of the inn itself), but from time to time he joins in the festivities that are always to be found in the pub. On occasion he even shares a poem or song with the sympathetic patrons, who are usually eager for new forms of amusement.
The last four lines grabbed me... and I've felt the same way... except for the "old man" part.
ReplyDeleteBe kind to yourself,
xx