Cataracts

 By Robert Kingston

I am in a strange place a place I’ve not trod before

My mind is guiding, for my eyes have ceased, I fear they’ll work no more

Blindly I picture the beauty, I have seen, since pass

A glorious orb of treasure, I crave….. Something I had thought would forever last

 

I hear the magical sounds as nature sings its daily tunes

Like a pin to floor the noise it resonates, bouncing,

Echoing, dinning like cymbals and drums, banging at my mind's door.

One sense I am forced to rely on more, to navigate from door to door.

 

I feel the textures of nature and taste the weather

as scents tread through my nasal hair

I trust in the wonders of the universe as I share its daily flair

Colours are now created visions, landscapes I rattle with a stick

If only the privilege of seeing was as simple as the flicking of a switch.

Copyright Robert Kingston