The wrinkles mask the face of his past, a face so smooth,so handsome he had his choice of women. This tower
of a man stoops at the shoulders and walks with a gait,
but still the strong body of his past shows when he attempts
to stand or walk. He was a man who rode horses and built
his muscles on the farm he worked. His glazed over eyes hold visagesof the eyes of his youth, as blue as snow at dusk. Fleeting life can’t
camouflage the knowledge in his past. His slowed heart beat
doesn’t tell the story of a good man who saw beauty in those with a good heart.
He raised his family to do the same. They prospered and carried on that legacy
of this man now wrinkled and stooped who is their hero. He died with them at his side.