His pillow flattened and streaked with silver gray
Groping for his glasses relying more on touch than sight
He reached his chair now rocking, and he tottering
I remember his manly poise, the arrogant strut
Acclaimed by those who sought favor and gain
I wondered if anyone then was truthful in praise
Would there be a man now to show a similar faith?
As he bent to pull up the warmer to his lap
Cursed a little the pain that stabbed his side
Finding relief and sliding into oblivion again
His fifth even before the dark of twilight came
old man's thought
Alone and sad.
I dont think this is about you sir. You seem happy with your life.
"Groping for his glasses relying more on touch than sight" - I experience this every day of my life.