A Man of Forty
A man of forty. Forty years the child.
His eyes don't see me but his mother.
His past. And like a child he wanders
Clean through the tunnels of his time.
And lost logic, and found regret.
His history plays inside his eyes,
and his fingers play with his pain,
He doesn't play with logic. Logic
Can't be found in this child's fate.
And like a mother I care for him.
But I don't know him- He seems to know me
And cannot smile. His eyes only drift
From my lips, to his mother's hair;
And without a word, he reveals his wrists.
His manly wrists with tiny spots of pain.
If I could I would kiss his wrists.
If I had half the courage to face his pain.
Masiela Lusha's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A Man of Forty by Masiela Lusha )
- The Broken Heart, kashif khan
- The Posture Of Consciousness, Maharishi Deja Vu
- Cloudy eyes, Nassy Fesharaki
- Ill luck, hasmukh amathalal
- The Peasant, kashif khan
- Insanity Of Control, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Barren Future, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Big Pharma, michael walkerjohn
- Finding Gold, douglas scotney
- My Thirst, michael walkerjohn
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