They are gone now
The old ones
They look down at me
From the framed photographs
Walls are adorned with them
My eyes are weak now
When I look up at them
I do not see wisdom anymore
But the message is clear
One day I shall have my place
Amongst them
A lifeless framed photograph
Someone may look up at me
As I look up now
And hear the words of wisdom
Spoken many moons away
Don’t waste your precious time
Once gone, won’t come back
Yeah right
What am I doing now
This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Three