My years have made me weary. I know neither love nor hate and all romance has lost its flavor.
The notes of would be lovers fall flat on my ears.
A ray of sunshine and a place of comfort feeds my soul.
A warm blanket knocks the chill in the winter of my life.
The struggle with your own mortality can drain the art from your imagination.
As for me, the fear of becoming useless paralyzes me.
I long to slumber under the shade of an old tree.
HR Davis
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Author:
H. Ray Davis (
Offline) - Published: January 27th, 2021 13:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- User favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses.
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Comments4
Ray, you express that feeling well, but as for me, there is no fear, only opportunity!
Thank you
Well written Ray. Stay Safe.
Thank you, blessings
Useless you are certainly not, your words show that light can be in your life and will be there for you.
Andy
Thank you
'As for me, the fear of becoming useless paralyzes me.
I long to slumber under the shade of an old tree.'
reads raw and touch-sensitive - immersive,
worded very relatable
you have a wonderful gift dear Poet
Thank you!
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