The Old Man

Forward and backward the rocker creaks,
As the tired old man sits and sleeps.
“Just resting my eyes,"his short words bite,
“Leave things be and they’ll turnout right.”
His forehead is wrinkled, his head is bare.
I can’t remember when he had hair.
His hands are twisted, curled by disease,
Acute pain in the old man’s knees.
Many days have come many have gone.
Yet still he enjoys music and song.
Forward and backward the rocker creaks,
As the tired old man sits and sleeps.
Dreaming perhaps of things long in the past,
When each job proved an easier task.
Surly the manner, but kind the heart.
Two college degrees, chemistry and art.
Known for a slow dry wit with a humorous pun,
Never would reveal his age at one hundred and one.