my hands once strong and agile <br />lie quietly in my lap <br />soft and fragile <br />where I once had hair <br />I have now a cap <br /> <br />soon I will be old and quiet <br />with only distance to share my fire <br />in this cold old house <br />none left of me or my desire <br />memories of you to share my bed <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />in the corner sits my conscience <br />dancing with fate <br />speaking in rhymes <br />of better times <br />discussing yesterday <br />and the day before <br />knowing it's too late <br /> <br />in front of my fire <br />I rock and stir my tea <br />and close my shutters <br />to the world and time <br />I'll hear no one's words today <br />but mine<br /><br />Robert Combs<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/these-days-3/
