end of the line

End of the Line


Old man, yes, you who walk near the houses on the pavement
down the street using a cane is there something wrong with
your hips? Hey! Old man when you see a group of youngsters
standing by the corner you feel fear, and if they make fun of
the way you walk you pretend not to hear only try to walk faster.
It didn’t used to be like this you looked the world in the eye as
you broad shouldered swaggered down the street of life, no one
dared to challenge you then; you didn’t know it was going to end
like this. Hey! Old man your life is behind you and your future is
the grave, and your walk often takes you to the cemetery where
you often go and read the names of people you used to know.
You live in pain- tell me way- most of the time, watch irrelevant
news TV, while drinking a little whisky. Every Saturday you go
the café and drink beer with other old men, only there are so few
of them now. Hey! Old man with a foot in the grave, in your dream
you are still virile and when you wake up you feel young until you
see the cane or your face in the unforgiving mirror. Yet you go on
living your loveless life in the hope of seeing another spring and
see the blossoming of the almond tree.