I sometimes sit and listen to the birds,
Whose voices speak ancient secrets in their tone.
I cannot say I understand their words,
But they leave me feeling less alone.
I sometimes listen to the call of the evening frogs,
Whose voices have a very old refrain.
And as they sit down in their humble bogs,
Their words work on my tired, aging brain.
I have loved, and still do,
Yet there is such emptiness that lies within,
That I am not sure who is who,
Or even where within this to begin.
I am fading,
A shadow shifting as the light sails past,
I am jading,
As I never to see love that last.
I would give my all to such a very few,
Who are the few beloved in my life,
And for them no holds barred for what I'd do,
To help to ease their worldly daily strife.
But, yet I am fading,
Like a flickering candle in the night,
I am wading,
In the waters so very far from sight.
Give me strength of soul,
For mine is growing weary,
Give me some directive goal,
For all mine have gone bleary.
So I am fading...
A shadow on the wall,
Not anticipating,
What the future holds at all....