He rests contentedly in the long shadows cast by time. The sun has lowered considerably from the meridian of his youth; the prickly heat from the day stored deep within his bones. The seeds long since sewn have produced a glorious harvest that still sustains him. His eyes in the middle distance, his self in a dusty attic searching for a cherished belonging. A smile begins in his eyes and spreads to his lips. The memory is liberated in a gush of words that slows to a trickle. Silent again; his satisfied smile does not fear the beautiful sunset that will eventually bath him in colour because the day is not done and he has been and he still is.
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