Hair on your head
White as the snow
Old man, stand feeding the pigeons
Your body is rust
Skin is like dust
Seen in the last light of evening
Lines on your face
Each one a trace
Of happiness, distance, and sound
Lonely you stand
Weak are your hands
Old man with too few tomorrows
Memory’s gone
Friends passed along
Old man, stand lost in your reverie
Life has been kind
To give you this time
To dream unrestrained as the wind blows
People pass by
Go on their way
Not wishing to engage conversation
You, you know why
One look in your eyes
Reminds them their time, it is wastin'
Hair on your head
White as the snow
Old man, stand feeding the pigeons