OLD MAN Old man clings to his memories The fragments of the past Clutching pictures , wet with tears A sadness that still lasts Mourning for so many Silently he groans A wretched body that keeps him here In misery alone Awake at dawn he listens Waiting for the postman's call Craving human contact He hardly sees a soul at all His days are cast in darkness Slipping in and out of sleep In his lucid moments He looks around and starts to weep He emerges from his slumber And imagines a knock at the door So keen to answer, he rises too quickly And falls face down on the floor A policeman breaks the door down An awful smell they said Poor old man, he must have fell Three weeks he's been dead Old man he is young now For he never really died Reunited with his loved ones On the other side
Reason for writing:
Sympathy for the old
Birth sign: Aquarius
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