An old man boils his
Soup, he’s no other source of
Warmth…but his own arms
A lady of age
Meanders through her years on
Her chair…her thoughts full
Listen, touch, we see
Them there until they last; then
We long… after that
fine poem....you already seem to know what happens to 'elders' when they are not kept in 'the circle of family love'... I invite you to read my 'Sweet Bird Of Youth' when time allows.
It’s a shame for the old. A lot of old people just sit and wait with no one around at all. Your poem hits the nail on the head. Well done
A poem beautifully written about old age. I like your poems. Short but meaningful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mifael, Also,10 for your last line, there is truth there spoken from the heart.