The Old Man Poem by Kellsey Hartmann

his claw-like fingers
grip his well-worn Bible
his pipe lies by his bed
it always was a foible

the sunbaked skin
like leather by now
his distant, unseeing eyes
beginning to cloud

his memory started going
about the same as his body
his wife by his side
his good wife Dotty

his kids gather round
with their kids in tow
this means so much more
than they'll ever know

he looks at each face
as lost memories come forth
he can tell by their smiles
his life has had worth

he looks back on the good
his life that has past
he smiles one more time
as he breathes his last