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See the old man creep around
slowly through his empty house.
His slippers hardly make a sound,
he's quiet as a mouse.

He shuffles 'round from wall to wall
peering at pictures hanging there.
'Ere night is through he'll look at all
each one checked with anxious stare.

Next to come, all closets opened
clothes and contents, all, he'll search
resulting in puzzlement deepened.
By now his tired old legs lurch.

But he must check all the drawers,
not one holds what he is seeking.
Nor do any cabinet doors.
The whole house bears his anxious peeking.

At last at dawn he lies in bed
where troubled sleep claims him at last
dreams of searching fill his head.
Awake, asleep, he seeks his past.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


A portrait of age that is with many lonely people as they shuffle in felt slippers toward their final sleep.
Loved the write it was quiet and at peace with its searching.
You take care, and know that we will share your shuffling..
Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Hopefully I'll meet a less lonely end. Appreciate the visit...............stan

author comment

The authenticy that pours from this is staggering. Bravo!


Blue Demon77

"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."

The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath

Thank you. This was written based upon what I've seen too many times. Appreciate your taking the time to read and comment..................stan

author comment
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