Watching the flowers fade

Old man sits in a rocking chair. Rocking chair sits in a one room world. Drifting shadows fill another hollow day: watching the flowers fade. Wizened face frames his bloodshot eyes. Spirit is leaking as his body dies. Every gift of youth and health is drained away: watching the flowers fade. Photo faces both loved and hurt. Choices from long ago have now borne fruit. What can ever take the place of years mislaid? Watching the flowers fade.