In Years Time

In years time

I’ve often thought

I’ll be like the man next door

alone

not lonely

with books and films

rarely out

but daily checkups

before

daily bottles

and a quick hello

to the young one

next door.

life

without a walking stick

I should cherish most

before I stumble around

naturally

from age

and the stumble

fatally - proven,

I think anyway...

the smell came first

then fly

after fly

and a moment’s realisation next light

his windows

covered with those pests

and the front door

open

for few whole days.

He lay there

the sight of fallen legs

all grey and blue

truly enough

decay signed the air.

here (next door)

another one vanished

I never got his name