senescence
deterioration with age, a condition,
seeing his pot belly shrink as
pressure wains in veins and arteries
where his pulse still gently pounds
the walls of his solitude.
his memories slipping away,
lingering for a moment near
his fingertips reaching, longing for.
where are they going. there,
in the distance, on the horizon
a boy and girl running hand in hand
through the meadow, laughing,
away from this old man who can no
longer keep up, and yet, fragments remain
where a dirt path traces a gully
leading from town all the way out
to the railroad track
where the 4 p.m. freight rambles
across a bridge towards a setting sun.
click clack, solid, steady, rolling on without him.
so, he limps home for a meager supper,
a bit of sausage in red gravy over long grain rice,
and then
night falls on an empty bed waiting where
dreams settle on his rasping chest
preparing him for another winter’s night.
