Thursday, February 5, 2009


Shoulders bent,
Back aching,
Strained by labor for
Beard long,
Grisly grey,
Untrimmed, unwashed, but sincere.
Sincerely destitute.
Mouth with thin lips,
Missing teeth, others browned and old.
But muttering words,
Sad silent soliloquies to
Ears that haven't heard
A friendly word
In so many years.
Eyes cloudy, they stare
At the ground,
Not seeing the crumbling shoes,
But the past,
When there was love and
Laughter, and family and friends.
His family now are his thoughts.
And he passes the bridge
Like so many other times,
Looks over the rail
And passes by.
So much lost, but if
He dies, so will the memories.
He sits at the steps
Of the Capitol building,
The most help its given
Him is these few minutes of rest.
He closes his eyes
To see more clearly His long lost happy times.
And from beneath the lids
Soft tears well out,
And run through the
Dry creek beds of His old and wrinkled
And he falls to his
Side, and into her
And away from this
Anguishing life.
And all that is left
Is the visage with the
Long beard, the bent shoulders,
The silent mouth.
The crumbling shoes.
He is forgotten,
But he is found.

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