Holding On

The old man stands alone,

With his weary head bowed,

And his hands clasped together in front of him,

Holding on to life.

His head weighs heavy on his chin,

As thoughts of lost time bestow him.

If it was all about love,

Why was it all so painful?

His wrinkled brow mourns his quivering lips.

A smile?

Somewhere beneath it all,

Perhaps.

May 19, 1987