The Whisper.

 

In a room where shadows dance alone,Sits a man, his heart a silent stone.Years have passed with no love to claim,No warm touch, no one to whisper his name.

He stares out the window at the world outside,Where life moves on in a bustling tide.But his heart, it lingers in the past,Where love once bloomed, now just a ghost, aghast.

Strokes have come, his body now frail,A reminder of time and its merciless trail.He feels his worth, like sand through hands,Slipping away to barren lands.

No one to call, no laughter shared,Just echoes of a life once cared.He wonders if he's but a shadow, unseen,In a world too busy to pause, to lean.

His eyes, they mirror a sky so gray,Reflecting the loneliness of each passing day.He dreams of love, of touch, of care,But wakes to find no one there.