Sitting by the Window
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…