Still Life

The gleam of a small lamp
illuminates the quiet room.
The darkness beyond the walls
forms another wall, then another

The old man sits and stares
at the past with eyes wet
from weeping.

The scenes that roll through his mind
some sad, some happy, are all that
remain of the life gone by
like a vapor.

And all around the world moves on
with dancing, and laughing,
and war, and buying and selling,
and loving and hating,
and all that is important
for a moment,
for a brief and vanishing moment.

No matter to the old man,
having seen and done
and thought
and remembered.

Daylight fades, again,
as it always has does will
and with it fading recollections
collective electrical disturbances
in his aging brain only
less than dissipated
already gone
only remembered
for a breath
until that too
is gone
quietly.