His Twilight
The old man sat
on a big rock
in one corner
of the peach farm.
Sweat on his forehead
he gently wiped
with the peace of cloth
around his neck.
He took a long deep breath
as he watched
the young farmers
working hard.
He smiled gently
as he stood up
and walked away...
it was his twilight.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Added by Poetry Lover
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