#Poattic3
At the threshold of age, I crumble
My eye’ve have lost their gleam
And my voice, its thunder
Yet, my frail hands beckon.
Can you hear me?
In all vulnerability, I fumble
Seeking to be held
by the little fingers
That in yesteryears were entwined in mine.
Can you not hear me?
My fevered brow trembles-
Awaiting a tender touch, a caress
Fancying a gift, from your precious spool of time
Yet, your eyes glimpse not at mine.
Can you not hear me?
My heart rumbles,
Albeit, oft less ferociously
Panting like a pard, to readily devour
Each moment gained.
Can you not hear me?
Why? Pray, why do you not hear me?
Or, is it loneliness engulfing me,
In a desert of monotony- a void of nothingness
That threatens to destroy me?
Yet, I repeatedly beseech,
“Can you hear me?”
Perchance, I’m lost in a soliloquy.
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