Living in a Moment

I am old.

I am the one they call the old man.

A Patriarch. A family man.

I am lying here. Lying here where

no one can hear me.

Sure, they come and go,

talking with voices low.

I am almost gone.

I find that I do not even care where

I go.

I am too tired for that.

That is not what I am thinking about now.

I am thinking of the stories that I have been told,

and the stories that I have told.

I am happy because I was loved.

I am happy because I loved.

The room is dark and all I can remember is the way

the sun one day reached down almost playing,

touching the leaves of the a tree, turning them gold.

6.21.1998