SEVENTY THIRD

nephilim56

He raises
With a shaking hand
Glass to mouth
Without a sound.

In a room
Of yesterday
A silent man
No words to say.


A frayed shirt collar
Lopsided tie
Suit thats creased
Lone tear in eye.

A son and daughter
Alive somewhere
No longer visit
In his seventy third year.

  • Author: nephilim56 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 9th, 2023 05:10
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 0
  • Users favorite of this poem: aDarkerMind
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