The old man whittled a point
on a stick he found nearby.
Worry had been a lifelong companion
and now he was wondering why.
Time seemed to have disappeared
in a vacuum of good intentions.
Now old, arthritic, alone, and silenced,
memories only, sustain his sharp intuition.
His family seldom visit
as often as they use to.
He fondly rearranges their photos,
uncertain what else to do.
He remembers when, where, and why -
his life was so full of activity.
The good, bad, and useless effort,
years of longing for simplicity.
He sits and stares in silence
when a cool breeze graces his face.
He smiles without regret, at peace
breathes his last, and ends this race.
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Comments about this poem (Old Man by Vaughn Wood )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(5 November 1850 - 30 October 1919)
- As I Grew Older, Langston Hughes
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- A Psalm of Life, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Night Thoughts, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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