951. What my fellows do in age's long gloom,

SONNET 951
By JH Sayyar
What my fellows do in age's long gloom,
When silver heads lie restless in their bed?
Do dreams of youth like candle shadows loom,
Or whispered ghosts of all the words unsaid?
Some sit by wife, their fingers twined with thought,
And knit old tales through silence soft and wide;
Some weep for Lady lost and peace not sought,
Or mourn the love they never dared to bide.
A few still chase the stars in sleepless flight,
Pen poems to the moon, or paint the sad past,
While others pace the floor till break of light,
As memories strike deep and breathe their last.

Yet in those darling hours all, frail but bold—
They guard dreams no younger heart could hold.