©Jan Millward, 2018

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The old man.

February 24, 2017

The old man lies in a care home,

his body curled into a knot.

Waiting for death to collect him,

another one life has forgot.

 

Pictures look down from the bedroom,

faded grey moments of love.

His mother holds her precious baby,

his father looks down from above.

 

The clock ticks away his life story,

as sand drifts away on the shore.

His pen lies unused on the table,

his coat on a peg by the door.

 

Hints of a life long forgotten,

a medal he received from the King.

His wife frozen in youth in a photo,

a life worn gold wedding ring.

 

The sun sets low on the horizon,

his body is now just a shell.

his legs are withered and useless,

he has no more stories to tell.

 

But behind the withered old body,

in the recesses of his mind.

His spirit is seeking his loved ones,

as his soul starts to unwind.

 

His breathing is faint now and shallow,

and as he fades away from this life.

He sees in a light by the window,

the beautiful face of his wife.

 

His eyes are weary and closed now,

but he hears words chosen and kind.

He may be old now and broken,

but he is free in his mind.

 

And death has stolen the soldier,

the husband, father and son.

But is he about to discover

a new journey has just begun?

Jan Millward©
The old man lies in a care home,
his body curled into a knot.
Waiting for death to collect him,The old man.The old man lies in a care home,his body curled into a knot.Waiting for death to collect him,another one life has forgot.Pictures look down from the bedroom,faded grey moments of love.His mother holds her precious baby,his father looks down from above.The clock ticks away his life story,as sand drifts away on the shore.His pen lies unused on the table,his coat on a peg by the door.Hints of a life long forgotten,a medal he received from the King.His wife frozen in youth in a photo,a life worn gold wedding ring.The sun sets low on the horizon,his body is now just a shell.his legs are withered and useless,he has no more stories to tell.But behind the withered old body,in the recesses of his mind.His spirit is seeking his loved ones,as his soul starts to unwind.His breathing is faint now and shallow,and as he fades away from this life.He sees in a light by the window,the beautiful face of his wife.His eyes are weary and closed now,but he hears words chosen and kind.He may be old now and broken,but he is free in his mind.And death has stolen the soldier,the husband, father and son.But is he about to discovera new journey has just begun?Jan Millward©
another one life has forgot.

 

Pictures look down from the bedroom,
faded grey moments of love.
His mother holds her precious baby,
his father looks down from above.

 

The clock ticks away his life story,
as sand drifts away on the shore.
His pen lies unused on the table,
his coat on a peg by the door.

 

Hints of a life long forgotten,
a medal he received from the King.
His wife frozen in youth in a photo,
a life worn gold wedding ring.

 

The sun sets low on the horizon,
his body is now just a shell.
his legs are withered and useless,
he has no more stories to tell.

 

But behind the withered old body,
in the recesses of his mind.
His spirit is seeking his loved ones,
as his soul starts to unwind.

 

His breathing is faint now and shallow,
and as he fades away from this life.
He sees in a light by the window,
the beautiful face of his wife.

 

His eyes are weary and closed now,
but he hears words chosen and kind.
He may be old now and broken,
but he is free in his mind.


And death may have stolen the soldier,
the husband, father and son.
But is he about to discover
a new journey has just begun?
Jan Millward©


 

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