Observe synthetic flowers
Swaying to a ceiling fan breeze,
And a wallflower, wheelchair-bound at that.
For hours I look out
I see concrete, undernourished shrubs,
Cars and bikes rush by
And they keep me company.
Speak for years that have fallen behind me.
Suddenly a slave to nostalgia
and withered memories.
Do you see the photographs on my vanity?
Notice how they stare back at me
With abstract smiles for the elderly.
I know they are too busy.
Everyone has his own life to live.
Hey . . . would you look into my world?
Share a thought?
I know you have no time to visit.
Yes, I am still here,
Alone, but alive.
|That will be me someday.|