Old man and young

This is a familiar village, with a few homes, Smoke rises straight from the chimneys’ domes. Today the streets are desolate and bare, Houses decaying, no one to care. Did the children dream of a future bright, And move to the city, like I did, on a flight? Did one light multiply the city’s light, Did one village’s smoke vanish from sight? When poverty knocks on the pocket's door, Did the village grandeur fade evermore? When seeking profit led the young to roam, Did the city streets become their home? Shading the sunlight with the palm of his hand, A weary old man, with a cane, does stand. His body was dirtied, his feet were strand, A stray dog circles, following its band. Alas! With no other choice left to enjoy, He gazes long at the road with a sigh. The spark of life now fleeing his eye, His back as a bending yoke, strained why? His soul troubled by age’s heavy plight, Can old age and youth truly unite? The child’s dream is still his heart’s delight, But the old man’s joy is overtaken by fright. Though he loves his grandchild so dear, Preparing to leave, he sheds a tear. Each day unsure when death will appear, And troubled by the fear it draws near.