The Setting Sun

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In the latter years,
Beyond the falling tears,
With loss of sight,
The blind old man will hold spite.

For he is plunged 
into a world of darkness,
For his sun kissed eyes,
Have been dumped,
Dumped into murky waters of the Nile.

For why should he smile,
Now that he cannot walk alone a mile?

When I can see light,
Within these murky waters of the Nile.

Oh I long to see the setting sun,
My grandson, upon my lap,
Tolerating me,
An unbearable old sap.

I long to see the golden visage,
The orange yellow and red,
The blending colors draw to light
The setting sun

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