The old man sits
His accomplishments
In his lap
A bag of
Memories and triumphs
Moments and epiphanies
He is alone
Now, sometimes unable to
Make sense of the bundle
He opens it
Rummages for one
To abate his longing
No longer relevant
All of his virile impressions
Are now gathered here
A wish to silence
The depression, the anger
With one last victory
And, if some passerby
May find him here
He would always share
For the stories
Of these deeds
Were all he has left
…to give…
