The Old Man

The Old Man

His test of time a righteous pass. The end is though a lonesome dance.

The ones so loved have long since past, and kin their loss his flight at last.

For endless dreams so real -so vast. He knows he’ll join them soon -at last.

Beholden to his truest captor, his soul directs its ending chapter.

With final breath his thoughts are strong. No chance of miss -no strings, no song.

A poignant drought. His stream’s run dry. With the past nestled tightly to the tear in his eye.