The Iceman
Empty old man embedded in his chair
Locked in his years and trapped in ancient pain
Silent, cold and purposely unaware.
That velvet chair - his prison, his domain,
Had swallowed up his life, his heart, his mind.
A silent king, he sat in silent reign.
In younger days he often was inclined
To laugh and dance and celebrate a song.
But now, by stony silence he's defined.
When he decreed that life had all gone wrong,
He crawled within himself and locked the door.
And prayed his days would end before too long.
But fate commands what man cannot ignore
His years rolled on 'til he was ninety-eight,
And with one tear, was silenced evermore.
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