His Twilight Poem by Marites C. Cayetano
His Twilight
The old man sat
on a big rock
in one corner
of the peach farm.
Sweat on his forehead
he gently wiped
with the peace of cloth
around his neck.
He took a long deep breath
as he watched
the young farmers
working hard.
He smiled gently
as he stood up
and walked away...
it was his twilight.
Friday, April 27, 2012
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4/26/2024 2:43:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
