Missing Senses

An ear to hear that is not had
Except for my own two
Still I am sad
A tongue to give wisdom I have not heard
What that of my own
Are you absurd?
Two eyes to see my relentless grief
My own are too busy to see what’s beneath
A nose to share the beauty of smells
Mine by myself is rather not what it tells
And last but not least a soul to be felt
To be loved and cherished before life is dealt
Where are these 5 senses, where ever could they be
It seems so hard to pass them from you unto me.