Literature
The Old Poet
delaying an anger, quenching fire with ice...
extinguishing embers, drawing smoke to my eyes...
frustration through this cold distance and visions of a misty sight...
greetings of a hazy remembrance befriend with my endless night...
here I am outside, soaked in unknown tears...
it's cold... 'tis cold... who will behold now that my frailness unfolds...?
for I have faltered trying to alter this familiar fear...
scold me not, fold not my pages when memories shine like gold...
here I am, ablaze..amazed... lost in a maze...
rhyming empathy and sympathy with apathy...
overly indulged with... .... ... dot dot dot, fretting in almost everything...