"David"

I see a man

Near my age

Maybe white hair

amd a few wrinkles

Sitting in his room

A computer for company

Alone with his thoughts

Waiting for commas and periods

To find their way

Into his maze of memory

And life today

Writing for posterity

And me

The words surround him

Like bees on a hive

He is still

Except for his fingers

Dancing over the keys

Rolling the dough

To form words like a pies

Fine for my eyes

Good for my mind

Whenever he's done

And the oven is off

A piece of that pie

Flies through the air

To find me watching

As I open my email

For my piece of pie

To find David waiting