He Believed In Folktales

He Believed in Folktales

oldhands

Silver hair ruffles

As a gust of death ardently blows,

Skin and bones

Arthritis and moans,

Knowing the best days have gone

Simply hardens his woes.

 

Strides now shuffles

The body wonders if it’s out of date,

Hands shake, skin is opaque

Ordeals eating meals,

& dentures can’t even tackle what’s on the plate.

 

Full of hate,

Or too empty to care?

It’s hard to say from that cataract stare.

Zips and buckles

The well used fingers barely cope.

Can’t hold soap,

A heart beat from a stroke

Retirement home a matter of time

Hell, just grab the coat!

 

Motor neurons struggle

O.A.P, Old And Pathetic,

A suffering diuretic

Dulled on anaesthetic,

Half human half bottle of pills

Even the smiles’ decrepit

And it’d take another lifetime

For him to fully accept it.

 

His will is buckled

Never had a kid, it near kills him

His memory fills in,

A flickering film in,

His mind of another man’s wife

Who bore his child that wore his smile

Imagining the next of kin,

Never having touched, it’s wrinkled skin.

 

The book hits the floor on the page,

Of Grimms’ Rumpelstiltskin.

© LionAroundWriting

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