Poem #71: For Old Times



The old man persevered

His life was brief

Yet interminable

He grew strong

In spite of the bitter cold

Marking the month of birth

The struggle was unceasing

Weathering the rain and heat through his prime

Marking the seasons passing

Much was learned

Though it will be lost

Unable to pass along the om


The next must learn anew

Perhaps his journey will be less fraught

Pausing, he sees the figure

Waiting patiently

Arising fresh and new

He begins to move

Approaching with a warm smile.

“Come along, then”

He says jovially,

“I’ll help you with that last bit.”

The old man grins wanly

“It’s only twenty minutes to go.”

The pair walk

Arm in arm


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