The Old man

In the distance on a bench underneath an old oak tree
 Sits a shadowy figure looking down to the ground
 He is mumbling words I can not hear
 I can now see the features of his wrinkly face
 He must be around  90 years of age
 The words he speaks I can now hear
 About his life and all his fears
 He is  talking to his old friend the oak

 Dear friend my lovely oak
 I came for the last time to speak and show
 We go back to a time far so far 
 Only memories are what we will be soon

 The mans face shows deep wrinkles and grooves 
 Stories carved in his body by his life
 I see tears coming down his cheeks to wash his eyes
 The last bits of worries and thoughts drip in puddles on the grass
 I see him sigh and his head falls to the side
 The old Oak creeks and dropped his leaves 
 No longer will these two meet the old man gave his farewell 
 The body of the old man slowly disappears into nothing
 I walk closer to the bench and sit on the spot
 The old man that was me.

A story about the old and the new self. We all go trough stages and grow along the way, Old habits and believes die and become the past.

Mr.Mind

NAMASTÉ