mifael llauderes - elders

An old man boils his
Soup, he’s no other source of
Warmth…but his own arms

A lady of age
Meanders through her years on
Her chair…her thoughts full

Listen, touch, we see
Them there until they last; then
We long… after that

mifael llauderes

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/elders/