An Old Man

He hobbles and tries to hide,
silently he cries inside.
Inept, ugly and old,
like a gecko he changes
colors just to please
those he beholds.

Intimidation, aggravation,
humiliation and endless
desperation.

Time…
He once held so bold,
contempt is now his to hold.
Eyes of pity stare, but he’s
become too old to be fully aware.

Yesterday…
is still playing in his mind.
Today has not been kind.
Tomorrow…
He shall soon leave behind.

Dread of each new dawn,
fear of each waning night.
His soul silently screams
for peace of mind.

He hears a beckoning call,
as dark shadows dance
on his bedroom wall.
Death…
there’s no defying.

Jackie r. kays…2003

Vote for this poem

An Old Man

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems