There was a man who had the world
At his fingertips,
With all the time to dally with
On trains and cars and ships.

He had all he'd ever wanted
Since he knew he’d meet no end,
But rather continue living
With eternity to spend.

A body bathed in the fountain of youth,
But a mind possessed by a sage,
Marching through life, an adventure;
Marching through life without age.

A face so fine, without spot or crease,
And a jaw firm set in a grin.
But eyes that, though a vibrant shade,
Expressed the old man within.

He’d shake and shamble on steady legs,
His weaknesses never portrayed,
But despite the praises lavished on him
He couldn’t help but feel dismayed.

He’d seen so many things, this man,
Wars' beginnings, middles, and ends,
He’d seen the bombs fall from the heavens,
Had seen it again and again.

He’d witnessed the fall of superpowers
After rising like a wave,
He’d witnessed the fall of monarchies:
The king, the queen, the knave.

But what troubled him most through all the years
Was not a thing of history,
What troubled him most was the death of his love,
A loss felt permanently.

Though he had the face of a striking man,
The body of an athletic youth,
His body failed to measure up
To his soul, which knew the truth.

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