Old Man by Peter Kiernan

I have seen the old man in you,
Seen him roll out from within your eyes.
Wrinkles revealed in the manner of,
Bright red ink inset in the lining of the palms.
Age was not to come,
To fall upon you as the years congealed,
To close thy lips with single finger sealed,
But was within you.

And certain you had said;
I will die as young as the dawn!
But old already were you.
The worn soul sayeth,

Find me a place to die,

One that is befitting of my long tenure.

And the young soul,
Speaks cloacal with each word
Hardly weighted.

Not one of you,
Shall pass with propriety,
Who knows not how to be silent.

Quiet is a demon who stalks idle talk,
And paces as men stoke the fire of chatter.
Who waits patiently to lie gratified,

In night cooled ash

So ask the hungry.
I have seen the old man in you,

Age come oozing from the flesh,
Beleaguered body beaten before

I have seen your last minutes

And each was anxious.

I have seen the old man in you,

And he wiped that merry drunkard's face,
As clean as a slate.

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