Longing for the Solace of Being Needed
His gait is but a shuffle
as he wears a fragile smile.
With eyes begging recognition
others quickly pass all the while.
Once a player, a mover
he shook big in his small world.
Many clamored begging to be
in his circle where he swirled.
Phone calls, where once they
promptly met return,
Now garner only a pitiful
duty to be addressed without spurn.
Always dapper dressed to the nines,
he would strut; he would entertain.
Still though trying much with effort,
softer shoes show humbled refrain.
As some remember,
they dare not accept.
To truly see one's future is
an unacceptable regret.Discussion about this post
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