dozing
tripping
into the past
chin to chest
a hand tracks
back and forth
brittle nails
trace across
the table top
mumbling
lips moving
"the old cat..."
eyes move
nearly imperceptibly
behind drooping eye lids
he's still there
behind a wall
as thin as skin
as thick as cement
living
reliving
"... on the window sill..."
the old cat moves on
old cats
old men
we all move on
~gtk
YOU ARE READING
Refugees of Reason
PoetryMe writing poetry. Reached #1 in #bookofpoems Reached #1 in #wattpadpoetry Reached #4 in #poetrybook Reached #10 in #poetry Reached #15 in #poet Reached #41 in #writers
