Old Man, Waiting

He walks abroad in winter’s wind
With cold and damp deep down inside
And trudges paths of old regrets
That rain and frost and snow begets

He sits beside the raging sea
(Watching waves crash on the shore)
To fish for feelings buried down
Then finding them, desires to drown

He wanders in Time’s wasted land
Where nothing grows, but withers, dies
Harrowed but left standing there
A crop-less field all barren, bare

There is no way for him to tread
A future path in to the sun
He lingers in old age’s pain
His memories just a sad refrain

Of things that could have been but weren’t
A life not lived but just outlived
He whispers to the winds his sigh
Surely, it’s my time to die!

Zannie