Lost Geriatric Jitters

Geriatric Jitters,
looking for some critters,
someone to hold my nitters.

The little girl with a saddening face,
the little boy with hands disgraced,
I call them both, I call again, they deny my tears.

Often at day, so restless am i.
I tell stories both wide and tall.
Ridiculous and inconclusive, lies to make them vision.

Perfectly rehearsed, saddening tones.
Broken notes, untuned piano tunes.
Simply perfect I remind myself, they'll come.

But as the days pass,
and they pass me bye,
I just kind of cry, and a part of me dies.

Its hard when they help others,
and you are left to be an ignored ignorant person.
So, sigh at it, I think, and go back to tails of misery.