He’s a hundred years old, 

A tad overweight, 

But breathing impaired 

Has sealed his fate. 

A thorax condition 

And common to breed, 

A paralysis struck 

One half of his need. 

So his breathing is labored, 

A guttural wheeze; 

His appetite gone 

On a whispering breeze. 

A steroid prescribed 

To ease his last days – 

His breathing improved 

But he leaks where he stays. 

He arrived at the door, 

From the woods he emerged, 

And for seven long years 

Our pathways converged. 

While absence approaches, 

His presence conclude, 

His spirit will linger 

In the memories accrued.