Old men gathered at mid-morning
In the twilight of their lives
Drinking coffee, reminiscing
While a short ways off their wives
Keep a watchful lookout on them
Tryin' not to let it show
That they know their days are numbered
And won't be long before they go.
For an hour they swap stories,
Spin their yarns and tell their tales
Aches and pains ignored, forgotten;
As each man in turn regales
His cronies with his anecdotes
Of deeds from days gone by
No mention made that each is lookin'
The grim reaper in the eye.
Three have cancer; two, heart failure
And another, failin' sight
But those tough old coots ain't fixin'
To give in without a fight.
As the hour quickly passes
Their exuberance grows weak
Silence falls around the table
Lost in thought, they cease to speak.
Then one says, "I've got to go,boys"
And slowly, weakly, they all rise
Leanin' on their canes and walkers
They bid each other their goodbyes.
Tip the waitress, pay the cashier,
Walk to their cars with shufflin' gait
Wives wave mutely and they drive off,
Headin' home to sit-------and wait.