There I saw the almost grey sea.
Against the backdrop of the pale blue sky.
Then I spotted you, a man stoic, savoring your cig, saving it like the last ripe fruit from an old worn out peach tree.
It almost made me cry, felt the pain of years gone by.
Where your ashen cheeks fought against the cold breeze.
Wish I could of made you my friend & heard stories of when you had that fiery glee still in your eyes.
So hearken not your heart, things will get better, rise up & foresee.