Eulogy to my receding hair line
Poem # 51
I can’t sleep, not that
I can’t sleep,
But I can’t sleep because
I can’t sleep on a Saturday night.
After toiling for a week,
Who could let go
The autonomy of sleeplessness?
And with it is blossoming
The dread of the lost summer,
And the memories of your dwarf, tender fingers
Playing with my split hairs
Like a newborn out of a warm womb—
Slithering on the motherland for the first time.
Your exodus caused quakes for that little mortal,
And since then the threads on my head
Are unravelling and falling, falling and just falling.
Loss doesn’t announce itself loudly... it slips away, strand by strand, like time we never meant to lose. But even as the threads fall, the memories remain woven deep. Some things fade, but their weight never truly leaves.
Yes!!! thank you for sharing your thoughts. 🌺