He smiles only occasionally.
The years have not been nice to him,
he reads throughout the day
and watches the sky change and morph from his bedroom window
'take me up to the old mill yard
and leave me with a blanket by the oak.'
His hair grows thin and white,
he fashions himself a cane.
His scheduled meals bring him slowly to each night
The sun soaking through yellowed curtains awakens him each morning
He passes the time.
'take me up to the old mill yard
and leave me with a blanket by the oak'
The clock's song grows faster and faster
His eyelids grow heavy, his skin melts onto his brittle bones
He remembers what used to be
His smiles were occasional,
but at least he smiled.
The years passing had stolen his hair, his mobility,
but the years had given him love and children and hope
Sunsets and sunrises, he had slept under the stars
His smiles were occaisional,
but at least he had smiled.
'take me up to the old mill yard,
and leave me with a blanket by the oak'
Bronze trophy winner
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