POEM - Prufrock Returns

In the night the vision come and go

In and out and to and fro

Even they question should I be

Should I exist and be allowed

To live and wander

Thru empty silent streets

An intrusion in the crowded air

My very presence a  marked affair

We speak in words not understood

As rain in rivulets on the weathered pane

My trousers still too long

Traipsing along the dampened ground

I could never answer the question

So they stayed

Unrolled, unruly testament to pain

The women who talked

Along the seabed floor

Would never call for me

Did not know my name

So I remain and have remained

We speak in words not understood

As rain in rivulets on the weathered pane

I have grown thinner still

The spot of bald is now a patch

My belt tightens another latch

The songs are harder and harder to hear

Please step a little closer, draw near

And whisper the questions you used to shout

Sing the soft reminder of the dance we shared

And I will roll my trouser up

Shine my last pair of shoes

Dispose of every scuff and scrape

Tuck in my ragged white silk shirt

A little yellow now from ages of neglect

I know I still remember a step or two

As smoke and fog combine

Across the courtyard

Across my mind

It turns to mist and spray

A push to the sea and deeper still

The salted air a humid cloak

Embraces and the song continues

Sweet as the peach we shared

Sweet as the breath you left in my ear

Is it mermaids that really call?

Or just you who I chased

Through empty streets

And dead ends and draws

On padded paws

I am old, I am old

Now my trousers are tattered and rolled