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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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