Where once a strong youth walked now shuffles an ageing man. The cuts and bruises of life have bowed his stance, and his fumbling step is now carefully tread.
The mind is slightly less sharp and his reactions are haphazard and faltering, but he goes on his way with fallheartbeat and shuffling step. So have the years played their cruel jest and furrowed his brow.
Only now can he see the paths that lead to nowhere but cannot tread much further upon his own. See his trembling hand as he raises his cup to drink, and wipe his lips for he is not aware, though not for caring.
Will you sit for his company but for a moment and share perhaps a good days tale? Ah but well he knows the haste of others business and the pressing moments of time.
He gazes out through dimmed eyes that have seen decades pass, shed a tear for his isolation for you too will share it soon. Too soon. Worry not for his future as he has lived it, worry instead for your own years to come and set your stitches close knit. The cold wind finds a way through old clothes, as he would tell you if you asked.
Question him why he sits in the same seat each day and he will only smile perhaps.
He knows not the hour nor even the day, and does it really matter?
Take a moment to watch as he feeds the birds. Will they too not flock about you should you follow suit? What better company could there be that question not motive nor intent, but to share a sandwich given so willingly. What thanks are needed when none are sought?
Look to see he is there when next you pass by for one day he will be elsewhere, who knows? Would you then take his seat and share a crumb?
Go then, with your errands and your endless lists of needs, but take care as you go, you need but miss a detail or loose your footing and you'll be gone forever.
**Miss a detail or loose your footing and you'll be gone forever.
From The Elder Scrolls, Oblivion.