His tattered pants lay on the chair,
A shirt so worn with no more care,
The shoes worn out from labors lost,
No one to wear them, such a cost.

Worked day and into night's domain,
To feed a family, remain still sane,
Had only memories to take him there,
Where he could sleep without a care.

His hat hung limp on a rack nearby,
The glasses that he wore on his eyes,
His favorite book with pages worn,
Just like his life, but now reborn.

The scent of his most favorite cologne,
So soaked the air in the home he owned,
And every little thought he once may  had,
Is gone for the past, once handsome lad.

Yet, late at night when the living are gone,
You still can hear him singing a favorite song,
And in the still distance you see him turn to say,
Goodnight dear loved ones until another day.