The steps to the house are loose
The door does not lock
The windows allow rain in
There is mold and the smell of rot.
The old man
Fleeing the old people’s home
Makes his way here and stumbles in the front door.
When he was a young man
The road here was manageable
Now it is clogged with cars
They are knocking his house down soon
But one more night in his own room
Before they find him in the morning.