Old man
lying in the bed.
Sad thoughts
run through his head.
Wife has gone
January last
and all he has
is his past.
Strong man
that he once saw
now feels like
he is made of straw.
Family call
from time to time
but do not see
him in his prime.
Staring at pictures
on the wall
of all his kids
when they were small.
Memories come
flooding back
and for a while
he is back on track.
Does not know
what tomorrow
will bring
or even if
the phone will ring.
Loneliness is
killing his soul.
But now he has to
play this role.

Reblogged this on The 50 year old poet.
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