How ancient you look, old man, <br />How like a living antique <br />You look today. <br /> <br />How much your money has held <br />Me in this living death <br />Waiting for yours. <br /> <br />When I come to see you, old man, <br />How the other folk celebrate <br />My compassion. <br /> <br />For seven years, I’ve graced your <br />Flaccid bag of bones <br />And smiled. <br /> <br />But today you’re looking so dead, <br />Old man, so dying <br />But so busy. <br /> <br />So tell me why your outline still <br />Declines to leave these <br />Sterilised halls?<br /><br />Stug Jordan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/appointment/
