Old man,

            teach me.

Mold my mind.

Hold my soul.

I will kiss

              your graying brow.

I will bear

              your withered bones.

A disciple of your creed,

I will spread your wrinkled flesh

                                            to the winds.

Smooth you shall be

again and young

as seedlings flung

to the corners of the earh.

And death shall have its own rebirth.