-I met him on a traveled road
This old man with knotted beard
His shoes were worn and filled with holes
I saw this as I neared
- He sat in dirt and twiddle thumbs
As he grunted somber tunes
The sound,  as if stones filled his lungs
This man who sang at noon
- As I approached,  choked humming stopped
My heart began to wilt
He raised his head with leveled stare
Of eyes that swam with milk
- My feet,  once sure,  had skipped a beat
As he offered out his palm
And in it lay a crumpled note
Words,  by crippled hands were drawn
- As I took this offered gift of his
He gave out a struggled choke
He hit the ground with widened eyes
By God,  the man had croaked
- And even now,  10 years have passed
I have that note of his
The heavy words of dying man
That simply said, "I lived."