In his dark cave of loneliness,
and despair his soul lies cold
and bare.
The years have left him
weathered, wrinkled, bent
and old.
He no longer recognizes
the face in the mirror his
trembling hand holds.
His hair is thin and gray, he
wonders what happened to
the years that made it this
way.
They are all gone…
family, friends, and war buddies too.
All he has left is fading memories
of people and places he once knew.
All of his tomorrows have turned
to yesterdays.
He lived his life the best he could,
and treated his fellow man with
kindness as he knew he should.
Fortune and fame never touched his
name, but for that he laid no blame.
He is just an ordinary man,
who toiled the land.
Now he waits patiently each day for the
Angel of Death to take him by the hand.