The Storyteller Poem by Avinash Nair

Suddenly he has grown old,
His once proud gaze
And forehead bold
Seem tired and cold,
The sharpness of his eyes
Has given way to this dull haze,
His powerful voice
It seems, lies
Beneath the fold
Of his skin;
A faint whisper
A silent murmur
Is all your hear, in
His silent slumber.
Now his stories have finished
His thoughts are famished
Now all that is left is
His story
All that will be is
His story.
A story that was never told
A story that was never heard
Will unfold
Here, a story of the storyteller himself,
A story about how he lived
How he survived and strived
And a bleak epilogue
Of how he may die.