The death of the old man.

Slumped in his armchair the old man did rest, his heart long ago broken beat slow in his chest.

His grey hair like barbed wire encircled his head, the pools of his grey eyes like hot molten lead.

Scorched and tear blasted reflect the flames from his fire, of life’s twisted hardships the old man did tire.

 

His memory flowed back now like the great river Styx, washed up on the shores where no penance would fix.

For here sat the small child a smile lights up the face, the old man before this felt bathed in Gods grace.

 

Oh Daddy my Daddy how I miss you so, lift me up in your arms now and off we should go.

I will hug you my Daddy and help you bury your shame, for life’s a hard journey and your not to blame.

 

My sweet little angel, my pale faced wee ghost. I couldn’t protect you when you needed me most.

Too much for the old man grief stabbed through his core, his heart stuttered then silence as he slipped to the floor.

 

He peered through deaths darkness as shadows closed in, and saw two tiny feet that ran towards him.

They found him at daybreak a calm smile on his face.

He fell out of Samsara and into Gods grace.

Author's Note

Newbie, be gentle ;)