Me and the Man Who Could

7/05/20

Standing at the end of it all —
Looking down at the chaos I caused.
I see the bags wide open —
The shirts just flying in the air —
Fire overheating any scare,
and in the middle of it all —
A dementia-ridden old male,
recounting all his hardships,
his lost love
and founding fathers —

Staring down at this man,
I break into tears.
Though the sadness doesn’t stop it at all —
I’ve never felt so small.
And in that little stance I stood —
The chaos continued to burn —
But I never felt a peace so tall
In the ringer I churn.
Me and this old male that could.

Me and this old man that could.