Fountain of Youth
He sits.
Slightly stooped posture
Slow and limited movement
He watches.
Decrease in visual acuity
Diminished peripheral vision
He listens.
Hearing loss
Slowing of thought, memory, and thinking
He sits.
Prideful
Back straight, shoulders back
He watches.
Own definition of beautiful
Observing what life offers
He listens.
Laughter echoes
Noise slowly dies off
He sits.
Small hands get a hold of his.
He watches.
Small eyes are drawn towards him.
He listens.
“apa”
He is next to me.
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sarah.0rtiz
Poetry has been my escape ever since I could remember. Every time I think of what to say or write, my throat has a seal that is broken free from strangulation. Words tend to sporadically slip out of my mouth and I have the pure enjoyment of writing them down.
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