January 16, 2017Poem

Does anybody hear

naturecitymusicpoliticsmemorytime

Does anybody hear

The sound of my breath

Escaping

Exasperated

Anxiously ragged and sour

After sleep

In exaltation

After a long walk

Who will hear what I hear

In the morning

As an early bird sings

Through a summer shower

When heavy rain hammers

Down on a tin roof

Never built to last

Whilst steam rises

As the heat of the sun

Warms the day.

Who will knead the knots

Out of my shoulders

In the early evening

Stretched out

Relaxed on a wide bed

Aching from the burden

Of life

Wash my feet

Cleansing the day away

From tired skin

Listen to the stories

I tell

About nothing in particular

Thoughts

That bubble up before they pop.

Who will care enough

To listen

To the nonsense

Jokes with mistimed punchlines

Facts no one else remembers

Or even cares to

Stories without bones

A verse with no rhyme.

Who will wait

Until the end of time

For the last words

The final breath

Barely able to draw

Their hand away

Lest they miss

A tug of recognition

A squeeze of sweet surrender.

Who will remember

The person I was

Before the fall

The decline

The steep descent

That begins with the end

And comes to us all

Who will whisper

Into my ear

Who will stay

Close enough to believe

What I say

Who will hear what I hear.