Loneliness

An ailing parent
Sitting alone,
By the telephone,
Waiting
For a call
From his errant son.

Hoping it might ring,
Knowing he has long since
Been forgotten.

Wonders,
Watching the rain
Face tear stained,

Is it time
To move on,
But how is it done
With your own
Flesh and blood?

poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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