Monday, 21 December 2015


He was grey, he was old
And through the lines on his face
Pop's story was told
Spotted with age and his hands bony thin
All of life’s story was written on him
And in a mind etched with memories still sharp
He has no room for tears in his eyes
While love beats his heart

In the morning on his porch  you'll see him
He sits all alone
With tea in a cup he’ll fondle his phone
It rings and he answers time and again
A smile writes a crease across his lips
And, it's hello old friend
He shuffles, he snuffles and sometimes he creaks
No time to grumble about his pain that he'll speak
It's time to catch up with old friends
And that's all that he seeks

And in the morning, you’ll see him
After a quarter to ten
Answering the phone, yep, he's out there again
He’ll be sippin' his tea and phoning a friend
He’s laughing and snorting his morning away
Old men jousting with another story to tell
And I admire the way
Pop and his friends are denying Death
And their passport to hell

Another day has gone by and little was done
And now the sink overflows with dishes to do
It might be tomorrow before he gets 'round to them too
Another day filled with laughing and lying and all of it fun
He looks back on his life with some sadness and sun
Is he lonely you ask and in a while he'll answer
He thinks that he might
Then he gets into bed, kisses her photo
And turns out the light