The Old Man

The Old Man is coming home,

Long since we parted ways;

The table’s set and the kettle on,

Unsure what to expect.


The Old Man is drawing near,

Tired feet seeking rest;

The road is long and the evening dreary,

What should I wear?


The Old Man is at the door,

Gentle rapping, cold hands;

Sooner than I expected,

No time to change now.


The Old Man is in the house,

Kind eyes and cold embrace;

Stoke the fire, pull a chair,

Make yourself at home.


The Old Man is finally home,

Too long since last we met;

Dinner’s done and the tea’s been drunk,

No need to wash up.


Old Man Death has settled in,

The sun is finally down;

The chair’s soft, the fire’s low

So good to see you friend.


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