The Hollowness of Age

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie Wordle #273 

Time got away from me, so this is last Monday's prompt.

Prompt words in red.    

 

Be my guest,

hire the feeble older man.

You will regret it.

Find a place

to lift up your feet,

sit and watch him.

Jump up again

to follow as he trudges.

Observe him trip

(his limp an impediment to his grip),

and drench coffee on his

crisply creased slacks.

His fists clench in anger.

But, no.

Look again.

Not anger,

something akin to anger.

 

Harden your heart to the scene,

the sound,

the crunch on the snow,

as he leaves.

 

Head hanging,

he pauses by the snowman

on the lawn,

fancying smoke from the pipe,

hot coals for eyes,

demoniacal grin,

wool mittens and scarf,

blazing against a snowy backdrop.

 

No, he feels no anger,

just the cold.

The intense cold in his tired bones.

Useless.

Temporal.

Ephemeral

as the snowman.

 

The hollowness of age.

 

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