He sits on the patio on his chair
like an ageing sentinel on duty
silver hair walnut cheeks, gnarled hands
like the roots of a tree
his dim eyes stare distantly
his mind free to roam into history.
he mutters he smiles
as his mind weaves through memories.
lost in his world he sits alone
as i watch him from a distance unknown.
in the lines of his figure i search in vain
for the man full of strength and vigour
but all i see is an ageing frame
staring into eternity.    [  continued.]