On the edge of Mortality

There he was!
An ocean, with flecks of brown sea spray and the dark eternal, plunging deep

A handsome face - the aristocrat - with cheekbones high and shapely and lips that held the hint of tobacco long after it was gone

Hands so big as to crush the skull of a man, and to protect the gentlest of daughters cradled in their fingers

Tall and proud; big and burly; quiet and watching and patient

Where is he now?
Only murky waters now, shallow and mud-filled

a small, aged, fragile visage: pale and flaking the dust of Life

Long skeletal fingers, with yellowed and broken fingernails always grasping for a protector to hold

Hunched, slow and broken and waiting...always waiting for a better day

Not a word of farewell: just gone.