OLD MAN

Sitting in his wooden chair
The old man gazed into the forays of           stars, his chair leaning backwards, legs crossed
Arms rested peacefully on his chest
His mind drifted into the inner circle of his thoughts
Underneath his legs the grass swerve to the tone of the wind
His eyes clinched as his thoughts veiled into the darkest parts of his past
And a slight grinned as those thoughts wandered into pleasant memories.
The sound of the birds screeching
Painted a serene picture of a perfect Night under the stars
Solitude for the old man, brings unrivalled ,tranquility one money can't afford .
But in the midst of solitude he yearns for companionship. The past of his youthfulness still haunts him and now he's paying for it in every penny ,in his old age.
Through does years he lamented
For the panoply of the hay days is gone
In self flagellation he torture himself.
But why torture, when he could live
Life is like a book, every chapter closed,
Can't be re opened.
But for those who tries, it bears operose.
For who opens a dried wound??
Uneasiness lies those who worry,
So much on things they can't change

Old frail and weary, but why worry.

         Live Learn and grow..

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