Sir, look up please.

Old man, I see you as you cross the street,
Your soul it seems is truly beat.
You walk so slow and shuffle your feet,
always looking as if you need a seat.

Old man, I worry as you walk the road,
shoulders hunched you look so cold.
A fragrant breeze of musky mould,
a hidden look of things not told.

Old man, tell me please your tales of past,
what would I see if I looked through the glass?
The electric drained and you living on last?
I wonder these things when I see you pass.

Old man look up please see my smile,
I’ve not seen you now for quite a while.
I wonder will this be your final mile,
look up Sir, see my smile.

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