Withered, leathery bark

Loosely holding on to brittle bones,

Sift gray soil through bony knuckles,

From all the turmoil cracked, dry.

And memories drift through

Rusty passages,

Or across opaque eyes.

Some fire blazes,

Some memory lights an emotion,

Now gone as quick as love did,

And the world as well,

Leaves a cold, vague feeling of hope.

Bare feet, gnarled like old tree roots,

Search for steady footing

And weak joints tremble,

Life won’t last long for he this feeble,

And time won’t stand still for a man.

Forward, he is walking

Or maybe backwards, maybe in useless circles

And all the while, tiring more

Expiring soon, in all likelihood.

Trying hard to remember human companionship,

Color in the landscape, a classic on the radio,

Sugar and milk in coffee.

-Sophie Wedd, 2009