by | Jan 9, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

The old man sits alone in the room at the back of the house
All stay away, even the one who has shared her life with him for so many years.
Only harsh words they share now in the twilight of their lives;
Where once all there was, was light.
Love? I’m sure they do. But in his mind there’s only hate.
In his youth, strong, proud and tall he stood.
The Regiment quailed before his mighty voice
His mighty voice, now feeble and frail.
Across Burma he fought, and Afghanistan before,
For years of his life, all there was, was conflict.
For years his anger has turned people away.
Even his family driven from him by his outbursts.
Now, at the end, he lies in his bed, and his wife holds him;
Wailing in her grief, remembering now the love.
He lies in peace at last, breathing shallow, the family all around.
Watching his last.
Is your life my template? Am I destined to reach the end alone?
Already I drive people away with my anger;
The slightest thing triggering rage.
I cant bear to see people, I want to be alone.
I don’t want to talk, cant stand the phone.
Granddad, what should I do?
People now say the same of me as of you?
Please, please Granddad, what should I do?
Please, please Granddad, was it like this for you?


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