Theres a button
On his collar missing
Theres mist
within in his eyes.
Hes 81 years old
He still has tears to cry.
His hands still bear callouses
From every house he built
His health now fading
In lifes Winter there is guilt.
Hes an old man
Who cant let go
He wants life not to stop
But the ragged vine
It dies
Ready for Springs new crop.
Its as if his achievements
Have been forgotten
Lost to time
He knows hes being greedy
Because old men
They must die.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: January 2nd, 2025 08:00
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 38
Offline)
Comments4
Life is precious when it comes to an end. Just one more ride is the cry. But death is certain to all and we must go when it calls. A thought provoking poem
thanks, glad you liked it
Tears enough to cry… that is so touching… just like travelling, we want to have enough fuel for that extra mile… must recede and contemplate…
thats so true, death and taxes
I think it`s a good thing he has the will to want to stay on, but sadly death is the only thing we can be certain of, enjoyed the read.
many thanks
you are very welcome
Excellent write
youre very kind, thanks
You're welcome
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.