Young eyes in an old man's body.

My eyes cloud and cataract.

They see no relevance in their vision.

All the new is now ancient.

The towers not built are tumbling down.

Weeds and mold fill the cracks that creep through the walls.

I miss the bees so much.

Garage band music wafting through the air.

The ocean had a fresh smell.

Orange blossoms in winter.

There's graffitti where my home used to be.