So still is the grey frail man
On the edge of the wooden park seat.
Is he reading the book of his life in his mind
Chapters removed for end of life peace?
His hands now shake gently to and fro
Is he writing his last verse?
Scripting it over in his mind
should his body give up first
A last line for today should tomorrow not come
A last line in the park alone
A last line of a day filled with loneliness
In case he is called back home