under his dusty cloak
robes put on by time
so much ... unsaid
a child waits for death

waits for death

...

the old man searches
in his tattered cover, reaches
to give unto the child

...

blessed, cursed
unlike the other children who play
with his sad voice
Locks out the day!

curious
that when his hand is touched again
how cold
pleading take me away
or my heart, please hold

...

only but the youth inside
memories are but clutching time
bring me back who I am in my mind, he cried
that child, that child
who longed to die

staggering old man starts down the walk
frightened eyes never knew but to keep
hold a course
to the lonely child and give him sleep

...

I cry so hard to think on it
I do not want the child to die
how neglected has he lived
and I must say goodbye

as his breath, his voice, leaves
and touches the open skies
heaven please rain down on me

rain down on me the tears from his eyes

WoW!!!! quite moving

wow

Thank you so much!

Excellent write ronin. I love the descriptive analogy set within this heartfelt write.

Thank you Spirit. I was hoping the analogy would come through.

I was not really caught up in this poem, until the end, when you really brought it home...
Thanks, ronin