There on the path of life’s buoyant hope
Thoughts get entangled in flaxen rope
And ones great plan, it just fades and dies
All the golden paths get strewn with lies.

Now gone are the years of tender youth
So one gets older and more uncouth
And gone is the young and handsome lad
This leaves an old man lonely and sad.

His plans trip slowly through fuddled mind
He packs unreal gear for mountain climb
Maybe boots and pick he can borrow
But all forgot come new tomorrow.

Sitting in broken and worn armchair
Weary eyes glazed and staring nowhere
Wondering what he had meant to do
With the stray lace, untied in his shoe.

Light in his eyes soon fades and dies
No one hears his soft painful cries
A day later, they find him by chance
The old man has danced his final dance.