Where is he?
The polite guy who greets everything on his path,
The shy guy afraid to ask for love,
The gentle guy who counts the words he speaks,
The honest guy who has good faith with no malice.
The older version is too weak to survive this harsh world,
If I remained my old self,
I would probably be eaten as dinner to the predators.
But I would rather be the huntsman than the prey.
The old me is at the morgue.
©hilary
H