I am a geezer standing in the dusk, mesmerized by the gulls.

Once young, my spirit flew, everlasting flight ‘neath my wing, when the harsh reality of time settled in.

The gulls still fly over the blue wonder in our world, while I lag behind, and slowly fade from view.

Emptiness and bitterness fill my heart as my wing fails for the third time.

Trapped, on an empty island, my gulls move on in search of better winds, while I am helpless on my own.

I suffer through the years of solitude and emptiness.

I have another group now, after years of surviving. These gulls have someone like me, someone who is slow, and lags behind.

I feel my wings expand as I attempt to teach him how to fly steadily and well, as a rippling sensation shoots through me.

They tell me I'll never fly again. They tell me I'm better off dead.

I am a failure, leaning into the dark, saddened by the gulls.

He is at my bedside, my young gull, full of worry and guilt. I tell him it's not his fault, but he blames himself.

With that, he flied away and never come back, and left me back in darkness alone, crippled and hurt.

Never did I see him again, or hear of him again, for he was long gone, on a road that led far away from his guilt and anger.

Day after day I like to think I see him flying above me, but I know he won't come back.

I've left my nest now, a new passing group of gulls took me in, and helped my fly one more time.

My new group looped back and left me without a word, just flew right off to the place I cannot follow.

I am just an old, cranky geezer, standing in the reaches of dusk, angry at the gulls.

Again and again I yell out, but there is no answer.

Night falls and day breaks, but I am condemned on this island, trapped for all eternity.

I wade into the shore, and enjoy the blue cool me down and relax my every fiber.

I knew my time to fly on will be soon.

I am an old geezer, stepping into the dusk, flying with the gulls.