The Old Man Poem by Jim Milks

The old man sits alone, day after day he sits there still.
His hair has turned gray his eyes have turned dim.
Few stop by, most disregard him.
The old man listens to the silence that surrounds.
He thinks about the rooms, once filled with the laughter
of children and with love; and how his loneliness does confound.
His cloths are thin and worn, his body bent by time.
But still the old man can remember a time
when people sought his wisdom, when they enjoyed his rhyme
Day after day, the old man sits alone, his skin turned soft
his bones weaken
Over there be the old man, the one that time has beaten