My Old Man

His nails are caked in grime,
the many dreadful years broke his leather boots in long ago,
The sparkle in his eyes, once there, now dulled by the sad humdrum
of work and life
His strides sodden with slowness,
a smile not as nimble as it used to be,
the dark aroma of smoke, sunken deep into his timeworn skin,
singed hairs on the back of his head from the torture that followed him home
Breaths of stale bread mixed with bitter black coffee he has for breakfast
every morning, Every day
he comes home to the memory of a beautiful and compassionate woman who loved him,
the children that adored him
The realization of having lost everything right under his nose,
when he was only trying to give us the best
Why is the world so sad,
the way it makes everyone feel so glum and bad,
the man that I once knew,
the one that I sadly outgrew