THE FINAL YARDS

His cough rattled from deep within,

rising to the surface like an echo in a cave.

The land inside of him was tired.

The fields of his strength lay fallowed.

He is long from the days when a foolish youth

wasted what was right, sacrificing his

health to the weight of years lost.

Today is the autumn of his travel.  A road

once wide with success now narrow.

When he stands he resembles a fragile wall

unable to resist the forces of gravity;

a frail shadow once with promise.

He is a father or a brother, a soul of lost

fortune; a smile glimpses his youth.

Because we care were painted with sadness.

We are angry for our loss and the

Companionship once cherished.

He was my grandfather.  I will miss him.

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