He sits in his chair by the window,
And watches care-free children at play,
Listening to the sound of their laughter
As in it he is carried away,
Back to the days in his memory,
And oh, its tender music is sweet,
Before silent years when he’s simply
The old man who lives down the street
Once he was that boy on the sidewalk
So full of endless vigor and vim,
Spending happy hours on the ball-field,
Playing until the daylight grew dim,
The laughter drifting through the window
Could well be his friends as they’d meet,
Never dreaming someday he would be
The old man who lives down the street
He studies the faces of young love
Arm in arm they go, strolling by,
And he smiles in wistful reflection
As a teardrop escapes from his eye,
For he too was once a young lover
With many a fair girl at his feet,
And his youthful dreams never pictured
A lonely old man down the street
He sees weary mothers and daddies
With lively dear youngsters in tow,
Their chatter and quarrels and laughter
Are just as they were long ago,
When all of that clamor was heaven,
To be busy and weary was sweet,
Now he rocks, alone in the silence,
An old man who lives down the street
He remembers the hours of working
With a family to feed and to teach,
Bills over-due and dreams waiting
And one always out of his reach,
Mindless of the years as they flew by
Filled up with endless dead-lines to meet,
Too busy to think of an old man
Alone in a house down the street
Now he sits in his chair by the window
And watches people hurrying by,
If you stop you would see him smiling,
But often with a tear in his eye,
For everyone is still so busy
With too many a dead-line to meet,
No time to sit down just to visit
An old man who lives down the street
Janet Martin
