saint old man

 

that man over there   see him

probably tall and straight in his youth

had lovers   maybe married   had kids

 

   was a man of consequence 

 

~

 

look how stooped he is   even frail

doddering gait

gaze mid-range   neither near nor far   unfocused

 

   waiting for someone to hold the door

 

~

 

somewhere inside is this—vibrancy

i want to grab him

and shake him   and hear his story

 

   his lusty sad bold unlikely heroic story

 

~

 

he is my father husband brother friend saint

fading away before my eyes

one last hurrah   i say   let's light the fire

 

   let's make a din   bring down the house   

   you and me   old man   one more time

 

 

 





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2026-03-06 at 14:03

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
A very astute and gentle quatrain on the effect of ageing both on the aged and the younger observer. It made me think there isn't a point at which the greatest effect is to be observed because it is simple ongoing - until that last breath to put it bluntly. We somewhat glibly say we are learning all the time, every day, but as someone into their octogenarian years I realise that applies to the physical diminishment of things too. Growing up we acquire new abilities, growing old we loose some of them too, regrettably. :o( A great write.
Blessings, Allen
2026-03-06


William Hughes The PoetBay support member heart!
Yes, aging is very hard. There was a time when the elderly were honored for their hard-earned wisdom and experience. Nice read.
2026-03-06