On this withering new morning,
This first of December,
I can feel the cold wind penetrate
The solid brick of my home.
A Spring arrived this year
and yet within there was decay.
A summer blasted and scorched in seething pain.
Autumn settled and my spirit rest beneath the leaves.
And as mother earth returns to sleep
and her beauty fades to white,
There is but the faintest gleam of life within me,
a soft and glimmering light.
There is a woman standing here beside me
as I sit defeated in a rocking chair.
Her identity is unclear to me
and still I have yet to care.
She will fix a plate of food for me
and I’ll wonder if she came from above.
She leaves the house and every second is a second too long
Cause it looks like I’ve rediscovered love.
She is a woman some 20 years beneath my age
“I don’t know what the future holds for this old man,” I say.
All’s I know is that if the end should come soon,
Let my last sight be that of your eternally nurturing face.
Ren Michael 