Nearing the end of their fleeting days,
short-inhaled lives infirmly await the long dark
Garrulously tilting fermented liquids in a park,
they watch their former youthful ways
Addled memories of a once robust stride
keep the brown paper covered truth hidden well
Selfish pleasures have left their flesh bodies frail,
weary envious exhalation of tearful pride
Uncomfortable thoughts tinge their mind,
feeble resistance offered in boisterous recollections
Never given to ingest any sobering contemplations,
aged souls possessing only wrinkled opine
Cantankerous wrong heights stooped on a bench,
bemoaning last rites of spirits dead long ago since
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