Who will hear my stories?
Friends not many now.
Ask me to tell my stories.
One day, I won’t be here.
Who will visit with me?
To sit and drink coffee.
Each decade brings loss.
Signs of twilight years.
Youth plans the future.
Endless years ahead.
Postponing all of today.
There is always tomorrow.
When did I wake up?
To catch a glimpse of me.
The mirror, a projector.
My life has fast forwarded.
Who will come visit?
My story, impatient.
Bursting to be heard.
Will you let me tell it?
By C.E. Pereira
(7-7-2019)
HoneyGwhiz 
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