The Old Man

the bent old man
once
stood upright
and
straight

now he sways
just like
a blade of grass
blowing
in the breeze

what once
was
as solid as
oak

is now
nothing
more than
a
willow

fragile
and
brittle
he does not snap

you would
think
the strain
of the years

would break him
yet
he still
grows
not up
like a tree

but in stature
maturity
and wisdom

never
forget a tree
is more
than
what you see