THE OLD MAN

Creak, creak goes the old rocking chair,
As the old man sleeps & dreams of his life.
His face shows lines of years of weathering.
Dreams that came, dreams that went,
Flows through his mind.
Faces of loved ones appear,
Like they were there just yesterday,
Yet, they are gone.
Gone away for years, even decades.
Green hills, snowy mountains, babbling brooks,
Pictures in his dreams.
Travels he made, places he'd seen.
Slowly, slowly it all fades away.
He has no regrets.
Darkness encroaches on him,
She comes to collect him,
To meet all those who have already left.
The creaking stops, his face is radiant,
His aging body releases him to join his loved ones.
He is gone.