Hardened eyes,
Like a battle worn 94,
Grey steel glaring from worn blond stocks.
Hands grasping at the air,
Scarred and calloused,
As only time and hard living can provide.
He stares out the window,
Through the missing panes,and into nothingness.
The past and jaded present,
Mingling on the currents of the breeze,
Just outside his grasp,
Like everything else.