His eyes are still bright,
Though he cannot see,
Clear blue sea,
That brushes him slight.
His ears still longs for that voice,
So melodious and mellifluous,
Now he has no choice,
But listen to nature's raucous.
His lips are dry,
Like the barren land,
They curl up into smile,
As he remembers sweet memories of holding her hand.
His bald head shines,
Which was once filled with hair,
Long, thick and fine,
Waving and dancing in the air.
Youth held his hand,
Like gorgeous trophy wife,
Making him beam with pride,
While his ego grew leaps and bound.
One fine day,
He woke up from his dream,
And found himself alone,
With no one to care,
Only memories of past
That were once so sweet.
