Two Old Men Poem by tinashe severa

The old man down the street,
never could say anything complete,
the old man next door,
could never take his eyes off the floor,

The old man down the street, dreams of being a flame thrower,
the one next door was a wine grower,
the first old man claims warfare as his true domain,
the one next door abhors all forms of pain,

when im old i will go next door,
for the old man there, my ways will mend,
so long as my youthfulness remains,
i will live down the street,
for my happiness need not end