The Handsome Man
The grays have filtered through his once golden fleece
Time had etched more lines of wisdom across his furrowed brow
The sun had seasoned his skin to an auburn leather
Muscles, full and robust, morphed into sinewy unfamiliar appendages
That Rolling Stone’s passage of what a drag it is getting old
His inner voice screams with rage in silent protest
Once standing tall, the mirror now gaze upon a reflection past gone
His collection of memories have become moth eaten and tattered
Friends have become fewer as they are consumed with each passing year
Growing new ones is harder than he fears
The once youthful eyes never looked foward to this inevitable future
And with a blink and a wink, the time is nearer to the door
Everybody will answer when the bell tolls
Rich and poor and black and white and all the colors in his sight
Mark his time as he look back on his life
Remembering the moments that meant the most to him
And not the superficial, the materialistic, the monetary fuss
As light begins to fall, it will arrive in the most unlikely fashion
Honor his values of what makes him more than just the handsome man