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.