The Nonagenarian

Four-and-ninety years ago, 
He first came to these hills, 
The child of a couple doomed 
By undeveloped pills 

But somehow, he survived the times 
And lived on to relate  
The way he nearly fought the war 
(His birthday came too late) 

Instead, in southeast Asia, he 
Performed with passing valor 
A thing he sometimes thinks about, 
And wakes, in sweat and pallor 

But that was sixty years ago. 
So much around him changing, 
His escapades, mere stories now, 
His mind slowly deranging -- 

But in the hills again, he finds 
He can give up resistance, 
And hear the echoes of a past 
That other, whole 


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