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.
Xillus Xavier
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-once-proud-man-sits-silently/
