The old man.
I saw an old man sitting there,
Lost in thought in his chair
whispering words no-one can hear,
Closing his eyes and facing the sun,
I saw him see, each memory, each and every one.
Of all that was or could have been and every crazy thing that he had seen.
I saw his fingers bend and touch,
An unknown memory of his own true love.
A heart felt memory, when his love begun.
I saw his smile break through the light, it was a memorable sight,
He couldn't hide it if he tried,
and then I knew that he had died.
I wondered just who he was,
Content to sit just watching the world go by.
Guessing at how he had become.
A man whose face had more to tell,
Built of stories he'd never tell,
Himself a tale ,untold now gone.
And now and then when I'm alone,
I'll close my eyes to up and go,
To that place for a little while,
Where moment and memories are lived again,
Where the old man found his end.
Far away beyond the bend.
As and when my own time comes around.
I'll find a quiet place to sit down,
And I'll rest my eyes for a while,
And as I turn to face the sun,
I hope to see everything and everyone.
And see enough,to make me smile.
For this I would go that extra mile.