The Forgotten

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I see that you are here,
your head aching and your
hands lined with your years.

I am not afraid to touch you,
though your eyes water and
you feel forgotten.

If you could reach out a hand
to touch his cloak,
you would.

If you could fall at his feet,
trembling and seen,
you would.

For now, see that I am here, and
place your throbbing head in my hands.
Do not be afraid, he will not let you go.

 

 

 

Photo: Volkan Olmez|Unsplash
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