The Old Man Sits Sickly

Like an old bottle of Dr. Pepper said:

10-2&4, morning or night,

he plays solitaire and waits

for a poem to come along,

and sometimes it does, somedays.

He naps a lot and writes nothing,

he is waiting to get better,

knowing he might not,

knowing dying is coming,

and not minding too much,

but wanting to live a little

before its time to go.

Too weak to do the things

his brain thinks of,

too weak to think as much as he used to,

 so glad the little man with the typewriter

still send him a poem now and then.