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Ninety Years
You see him at the store sometimes He doesn’t walk too fast His stride has slowed throughout the years He slowly moves on past The hair upon his head is white If there’s any there at all He may be stooped or bent a bit A cane so he won’t fall He smiles but you don’t know his name He waves a weathered hand You might smile back and say hello There goes a nice old man What you don’t see beyond his face His life of ninety years The wife he met the kids he’s raised The joys and work and tears The letters won for high schools sports The girls he used to date The time his father grounded him For coming home too late The war he fought for freedom’s sake Tales too hard to speak The friends he lost the wounds he bore The tears upon his cheeks The job he worked for forty years That kept his family fed The home he built with his two hands The church group that he led Time and youth have slipped away His mind is not as clear His friends have mostly left this earth He’s lost his wife so dear. When next you see an aged gent Who passes through your day There’s more to him than leathered skin There’s much that he could say He doesn’t want your sympathy Nor pity could he stand Don’t treat him like a feeble child Approach him as a man. He still remembers all he’s done He hasn’t lost his pride Respect his years for you’ll be there And know his heart inside
Copyright © 2024 John Curtis. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things