He pensively sat at his desk with a quill pen and tub of dark ink,
Holding the feather in his withered hand helped him to think.
The soft radiance from the candle's lamp lulled the lonely old man,
As he covered his thin legs and shoulders with a tattered worn afghan.
His life seemed to have passed by him a good while ago;
He now had little left of which to crow...
Just a fracture of the virile force he used to be made him wince
But memories reminded him that he once was a prince!
"Don't count me out just yet," he declared.
"My life still has meaning and I'm not one bit scared!"
"I've always been a gambler and have an ace (or two) up my sleeve."
"I'll write all my stories down, be young again, and then you'll believe!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This has been for Poppy's #9 Prompt
About the Creator
Shirley Belk
Mother, Nana, Sister, Cousin, & Aunt who recently retired. RN (Nursing Instructor) who loves to write stories to heal herself and reflect on all the silver linings she has been blessed with :)
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