Senses of the Soul

By John Herlihy

Upon the senses, age does take its toll;

But what effect has age upon the soul?

My eyes are now pale, watery and weak;

But their age sees into the distance pure.

My eyes have already reached their peak;

But their age gazes into the future sure.

My ears now clogged and feeling vexatious;

But they still hear a whistle in the breeze.

My ears now ring with a haunting tinnitus;

But the ghosts I hear can put me at ease.

My nose is now hairy and full of bristles;

But my smell still savors the scent of life.

My nose may be full of ruffage and thistles;

But all the perfumes of Arabia are still rife.

My tongue is now dry and cracked like mud;

But it still tastes nourishment with delight.

My tongue is now parched and withered;

But it still experiences with another sight.

My hands are now wrinkled and blotched;

But their touch is still nimble, still there.

My hands now fumble in action botched;

But their tenderness still held up in prayer.

The senses of my soul are still infinitely near;

I treasure every moment as sacred and dear.