Twilight Years - Poem by Anita Sehgal
It is the evening of his life.
He sits on an isolated bench
And stares with empty eyes at the barren park.
Where no flowers bloom
No children play.
The gaunt branches of the trees
reach out as blank eyes of the dead.
A lonely sliver of a moon hangs low in the sky.
Slowly the darkness settles in …
The stirrings in his heart move out to connect
but come back desolate and forlorn.
Long gone his soulmate.
None awaits him at home..
How long, how long
before it comes..?
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If You Forget Me
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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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