There is a man in front of me
He is old
His shoulders seem pinched and somewhat stooped
His hair, where it exists, is sparse
Where it is not, the landscape is mottled, a lifetime in the sun
The face is highly exhausted, his laugh lines are deep furrows locked in time
A slight paunch, but not bad for a man who values eating so highly
His choice for the morning is hot coffee and a sunny dawn
He strives to get his goals done for the day by lunch before he tires
An afternoon nap is on the agenda every day
His music and his garden are his soul foods
His wife is his best friend, she and he from the beginning of time
At night, he rests his bones, she comforts him and keeps him warm
They say memories occur when emotion is attached to an event
He is thankful for all those who provided emotion in his life
On the porch or in the garden, he relives those moments as if in a movie
His family is comforting and a blessing, but they need him less and less as it should be
Any thoughts of past importance are mostly in his head
Today is his birthday
As I back away from the mirror, I must remember that he is me
Well, come on old man. We still have some living to do…