Sense of Touch

Marilyn Terwilleger

His blinded eyes can no longer see the bird

that wafts above like whispers soft unsung

the feathered wind upon his brow is mute

instead he hears the bird a wren perhaps

that flies among the silver stars so bright

His tattered dress belies his strength of mind

with sense of touch and smell acute that helps

him wander through the dawn of days with smiles

So long ago he strummed a harp with strings

of gold that sang beneath his fingers deft

and even now he hears the notes so sweet

enriched by little birds who trill for him

with resonating sounds on streams of air

His eyes unsighted and yet he clearly sees

what beauty nature owns that brings him light

despite his hooded eyes and rags for clothes

Published by Marilyn Terwilleger

I am a widow and live in the Rocky Mountains of Wyoming. I mostly write poetry or poetic prose. My children are grown, married with children of their own. They have given me seven grandchildren to love....  View profile

2 Comments

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  • Marilyn1/6/2011

    thanks so much, glad you like it.

  • rama devi nina1/6/2011

    Superb poetic work dear friend! :)

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