the old man

I stared at Death, his eyes were black
His face was gray like melted clay
I stared at Death, his mouth sank in
Eye sockets caved, a road unpaved
I stared at Death, his wrinkled face
No hair to shed, a skull instead
I stared at Death, his lips gone limp
His jaw was stiff, no fat on his midriff
I stared at Death, his faint shrill tone
His eyes aged brusque, lifted his arms and smelled his musk
I stared at Death, all skin and bones
His fingers twirled over folded knuckles and a pearl
I stared at Death, my wife had died
I rode this lonely train, complied
I stared at Death, and he stared back
An old man whose youth I lack