Old Man on a Park Bench

I saw him there,
Old and alone with his thoughts,
Decaying leaves between his fingers,
Scanning velvet vignettes flawed memory supports,
Recalling sadness, but its joy that lingers,
And wasted empty space
He can’t displace.

Last life now waits on
Dreams left unfulfilled:
Bright faces fired by the promise of youth,
Hearts full of hope in a future he can’t rebuild,
The crushing certainty of final truth;
That life now ticks away
On a watch display.

He called his dog.
Dismissing missing ends
When life was a no through road.
When it’s unethical to regret, he pretends.
He slipped into ‘now’ mode.
Homeward tugged by a lead,
He followed the creed.

A garden path.
A woman with the doormat smile.
Another Sunday’s roast to toast
Another end of a slow weekend mile.
Is this retirement by the coast?
Filling final scenes
With machine routines?