He sits by the window,
And gives out a sigh,
As he watches,
The world passing by.
Through thick glasses he sees,
The cars he used to drive,
He then looks sadly,
At the walking stick by his side.
The hearing aid's working,
Bringing in all sounds,
But he still feels,
So silent inside.
He longs to see,
He craves to hear,
He wants to feel,
His world that has died.
The ones he loved,
The things he cherished,
Even the memories of past,
Fading away from life.
He dreams of a grave,
Where his world lies,
That he walks there,
And someone hears his cries..