Elderly.

by Poet on the Piano   Aug 5, 2013


What will your last smile stir inside
of me? An absence of mind perhaps,
where asylums try to guard me
but I have yet to hear an end
to the violin's cry;
Mendelssohn reverberates back
to me, sore throat, bile rising,
dull eyed...
I am nothing like your favorite
concerto.

The repertoire of you is locked up,
somewhere where knuckles bleed
and as I grace my fingers across
the caved in walls,
I realize, you are burdensomely
close.

My soul was not composed in the
right key, for you needed E minor
but somehow I have turned flat,
unable to be your enrichment.

I am a lonely wanderer,
crossing bridges at half past dead,
feebly following the shadow inside
my shadow...

and there is no reflection to examine.

-
Written 8/02/13 @ 10:38 AM

For Baby Rainbow's prompt challenge: (challenge 1)

the last smile
absence of the mind
the shadow inside my shadow
half past dead
locked up

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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by L

    Can you delete this poem and re-post it? lol

    I don't know how I missed it, but I feel it should be in the front page.

    I get a range of images and thoughts that I can't explain. It takes me back on time.

    I am a lonely wanderer,
    crossing bridges at half past dead,
    feebly following the shadow inside
    my shadow...

    ^ this lines, every time I read them. They go boom in my head. And I start remembering a few elderly people I met whose family didn't want them.

    Overall, I am not sure if this is what you meant to say but I thought this was about the elderly people who are left forgotten on asylums, Of how they feel. And its saddening.

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