An old man in the chair sits still and stares.
His face etched with lines of wisdom and care.
His eyes, once bright with youth, now dim and tired,
But his spirit remains strong.
He sits in silence, lost in thought,
Recalling memories that time has brought.
His hands, once strong and firm, now frail and weak,
But the stories they could tell, oh how they could speak.
The old man in the chair, a symbol of age,
A life well-lived, a book on a shelf, a finished chapter on the last page.



© K. I. L. 💞