Cycles of Life

There's an old man dying in the next room;
He's not long for this life - and he knows it.
In this room, there's been a new baby born;
A happy family he's a part of now - and he chose it.

The old man lies waiting - for death and it's peace.
The babe waits the voices of relatives to cease.
The man listens to stillness, which surrounds his head;
The babe feels the warmth of his being fed.

The old man could share, if he had time,
Some great memories with the babe
And perhaps help him to climb,
The mountains of his future, like the old man once did,

But their paths will never cross, At least during this time.
For the old man just died, And the baby just cried.