His hair is mostly gray now
not sure when that happened it just was there one day
Maybe it was because he didn’t measure the passing of time
along with a number of things he no longer did
He wrote it off to a bad back and pain almost everyday
But he knew that was just an excuse within a lie

Chores were an offensive interruption
to be filed away under Another Day
right next to Cares and Hopes
and let us not forget the ability to write
Sure he could spit out fluff or just mere words
but it seemed the passion was lacking
They say write about what you know
so that explains it.

Its like being a mummy he thought
he could smell the decay
yet certain things remained preserved
Probably the most poignant of which
Is the silent love he caries
the one that kills him and keeps him alive
”The apple on too high a branch“

Yes this is his legacy
The journal of thought,
not with a rhyme or fancy prose.
just the fading drift of indifference caramelized
because no one can know what lies behind the smile

It’s time to close the sarcophagus
so centuries from now the archeologists
can discover the nature of Found and Lost