A Story of Life

Weary, worn, wise, old fool walking
Wobbling, weaving, hobbling
Her rusted joints find no oil
Scream for relief fading into oblivion
Her incessant babbles bauble over the crowd
Blowing like bubbles on a wind of apathy, carelessness, self-absorption
Yet if one could just center a world on her, bring her stories into crystal focus
Wit and wisdom would flow in torrents of life and love
Oh what is missed when electrons and attention flow away from hearts and blood!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s