Old man, yes, you who walk near the houses on the pavement down the street using a cane is there something wrong with your hips? Hey! Old man when you see a group of youngsters standing by the corner you feel fear, and if they make fun of the way you walk you pretend not to hear only try to walk faster. It didn't used to be like this you looked the world in the eye as you broad shouldered swaggered down the street of life, no one dared to challenge you then; you didn't know it was going to end like this. Hey! Old man your life is behind you and your future is the grave, and your walk often takes you to the cemetery where you often go and read the names of people you used to know. You live in pain- tell me way- most of the time, watch irrelevant news TV, while drinking a little whisky. Every Saturday you go the caf' and drink beer with other old men, only there are so few of them now. Hey! Old man with a foot in the grave, in your dream you are still virile and when you wake up you feel young until you see the cane or your face in the unforgiving mirror. Yet you go on living your loveless life in the hope of seeing another spring and see the blossoming of the almond tree.
