Poem – A Once Proud Man Sits Silently

This withered man

 I slowly feed, 

once held the spoon for me. 

What once were strong – 

two working hands – 

now stiff and idle tools. 
The empty eyes, 

where pride once shined 

a shade to shame the sea, 

were waned of light 

a year ago – 

now flameless, shallow pools. 
I spill some soup 

upon the knee 

where bouncing kids once played. 

It’s sad to think 

the spring within – 

has no more rides to grant. 
The lifeless lips, 

where smiles once grew – 

a silent, barren glade. 

I only wish 

he’d speak to me. 

Regretfully…he can’t. 
This once great man sits silently, 

in Winters bitter glaze. 

The tables turned; our roles reversed – 

These cruel and final days. 

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