soft grumbles

I couldn't believe a man
who used to command more
than a hundred,
heeling at his side
like lapdogs with tongues
sticking out,
wagging their tails
ready to please,
would succumb to time.

Men used to tremble at his feet.
Their voices quivered as they answered
even benign questions
like "What time is it?"
or "Have you eaten yet?"

He stood like a tall candle
ready to provide light
when needed. Worked

like a brand new tire
exploring miles upon miles
that when added up could
reach the stars.

Gravity is not so kind
to this old man.
It sags every flesh and muscles
on his frailing body,
drags his shoulders like the sun
inevitably surrendering
its power to earth
as it is drawn
during sunset. Lucky

sun. It will bounce
back in the morning
while I see a candle melt,
retire a worn out tire.