He collapses into small stool,
Black hole
Mouth closed, world shut.
Looks into the eyes of the big dog.
One twentieth his age but halfway through

She talks on over a pot of tea,
Out the window he stares
No one looks
Seeing him in outward eyes, measuring ourselves
Whisper of the end
against fear of the beginning.

Nostalgia lingers, full bodied
And heavy, heady
Those strong thoughts are the foundation of the end of
Everything.