Submitted by Ian.T on Thu, 2014-12-04 00:36
Can’t you see me standing here?
Am I bloody invisible to your eyes?
If so just think of me, things will clear.
I am waiting for the thoughts to arrive.
I hear you laugh as if I am a fool
Hold on, there are many things to talk of.
Too many what if’s, and maybe’s cross my mind.
What of this life now we have reached this point?
Where do we go from here, this crossroad’s?
Why do we have to choose, does it not happen?
I sink into dreams each night that tease my ways.
Why am I able to run so fast, and do many things?
Yet the morning sun feels cold to my aching limbs.
Is this all that is left to dream, and then reality.
Bloody Buddha he just keeps smiling, as if at me
Is this the depression of age, reaching my thoughts?
With all these thoughts running wild and the dreams.
I should be a blubbering wreck instead of knowing
Knowing that this is life as we age and is ours to hold
I shall walk another mile thinking on these things more
Here tell me true what you would do, another silence.
You see it is just me here and a wooden Buddha that smiles
He sits in a pose that I cannot do anymore, I fear nothing
Here are my words flowing in globular streams, think on.
Other words are set in the ether and arrive here for me
Others dictate to the keys, as I drift to one side and see
I watch the keys being tapped in a tuneful way
I shall read what they say and send them today
Who shall I send them to, is it really something to do.
At my age with a mass of memories to share with you
I really need a direction on what I should write,
I shall search here and find a singular thing tonight.
Today the third, I lit a candle for my beloved Father
He would have been one hundred and seventeen.
He fought for us all in the first Great War you know.
Thank you Dad your life as mine was not in vain.
I shall retire to dreams, tomorrow to think again.