An old man chooses his own way

An old man stands at the window
of a house that has seen better days.
The roof is leaky,
the walls have crumbled,
the boards are bald and bare.

The rain falls lightly
diluting the salt tears
diluting the crimson blood.
But there is always more

He glances at the room behind him
happy memories
forever gorgeous and light.

He dies with the new dawn in sight,
beneath the window where he was born.

a secret smile on his lips, his gaze forever strong.