Whatmore

My make-believe world pulsates,

It breathes and lives;

A fiery inquisitiveness runs

Through its pores and veins,

Not to be left behind

It wants to know as much as I know.

Put together by brilliant brains,

My make-believe world dominates my psyche,

Excitedly

Titillates my senses and thoughts,

It makes me wonder

And revise my competence.

As I stepped into my 79^th year

I lost everything I nurtured and valued,

I lost my voice,

I lost my ability to recollect,

To weave dreams, to doubt and find

Stray nuances in the sounds I heard.