This man is lost to the intervening years,
thank God, and the new man has emerged.
The walls reflect nothing,
allow nothing, just the dusty
depression of a room within
a house within a faltering marriage,
barren of love or hope of continuing.
Only a break in the blinds allows
a razor's shard of light through
to the suffocating heaviness of the
dark room, slanting across the floor
to the feet of the man in his chair,
the man he is, a diminished shell
now, devoid of dreams and plans,
of sexuality and a passion to live,
longing for the man he was and
the life he failed to appreciate.