No one asks the Oldie (Draft Three)
Among us they sit, these guardians old,
At the table's edge, their stories untold.
Respected, revered, but seldom engaged,
Their tales and wisdom, are like birds in a cage.
Soon I'll join their ranks, with tales to share,
But will they be sought, or left to wear
Wear away, untold, a fading imprint,
Lost to time as other memories untold.
What holds us back, from asking the lore,
Is it fear, or just too hard or something more?
How do we coax their tales to rise,
To brighten the room like stars in the skies?
Their sagas aplenty, wisdom they bear,
Shared among themselves in the market's square.
As they depart, replaced by another,
The table's edge welcomes a new holder of Lore.
A lamentable sight, these silent guards,
With stories untold, like undiscovered cards.
Triumphs, sorrows, adventures galore,
Yet they sit in silence, at the table's core.
Guardians they are, of tales and lore,
But until we ask, they'll stay silent evermore.
Dear Andrew,
ReplyDeleteNormally, poetry is not for me. One reason why I adore Wordsworth is the fact that he is so easy to understand. There is lucidity, a smooth flow in most of his poems.
I Like yours for the same reason. It is a very touching poem. You are absolutely right that unless we ask our oldies to share their 'stories untold', they will prefer to keep silent and their silence will be a great loss for us, for posterity.
Please keep on writing and inspiring.Best wishes.
P.N: After Day 12 - Instead of the title being " No One Asks The Oldie", it reads " No On.." due to a typo.
Thank you for the comments Rathin - and yup noticed that type - I'll have to see if I can fix it.
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