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