Epitaph

The old man's sitting there, his head bowed down. Every now and then he'll take a look around. His eyes reflect the memory-pain of years gone by. He can't regain nostalgic dreams he'll never see again. With trembling hands, he wipes a tear. Many fall like rain, there's one for every year. His life laid out so clearly now, life that's brought death. So nearly now life once he clung to dearly lets go. But spare a thought as you pass him by. Take a closer look and you'll say: "He's our tomorrow, just as much as we are his yesterday". A lonely grave and soon forgot. Only wind and leaves lament his mournful song. Yet they shout his epitaph out clear for anyone who's passing near. It names the person lying here as you and you and you and you.