bathroom

Old Red was his name,
he kept up the grounds
that withered just the same.

his yard that he mowed,
with a heart that wept,
weighed down his tired load.

his flowing river
shrank in hardened times
reduced only to slither.

dried scabs of youth,
a calloused bed for death,
bring an unwanted truth.

for when we opened his door
and saw that which laid
dashed upon the floor

we knew through his eyes,
though teary and sad, he had
found where happiness lies.