Old man sleeps astride a chair
Translucent skin with wisps of hair
Akilter heart and heavy lids
Thin lips move with words well hid
Scattered lines break his living mess
One time vigor, so much less
His chest lifts in crescent waves
A mirror to how we spend our days
We slowly rise in a growing arc
Gathering strength to make our mark
When we crest in open bloom
Our fullness surges like the sun at noon
Then we fall at greater speed
And with it comes our power freed
For all those things that held us back
Are tossed aside as flim and flak
In the end this wave crashes home
At its nadir becoming foam
Then dissolves into the sea
Like this dear man in front of me
Poetry and Verse 