An old man,
hair grizzled,
face lined,
enjoying each day
on the park bench
watching children at play.
Their laughter and energy
stirred memories of youth,
when his veins
pulsed with joy of living.
How insignificant seemed
childhood scratches
compared to adulthood wounds.
He had climbed his mountains,
sailed his rough seas,
achieved peaceful pastures.
Autumn sun's warmth
made him drowsy.
His mind carried him
back through the years
as he drifted into sleep.
Gardener found him there
on the park bench,
silent, still;
sleeping the sleep
from which there is no awakening.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
This touched me deeply. I never expected this to end as it did...you've painted quite a picture with your words. I have visited your site and saw your paintings, they are fantastic! Thanks for reading and commenting on my write "Sardonic Start".
Johnny
Adding your comment:
