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The old man who foreshadows death,
Hums a tune with limited breath.
His foot taps a definite beat,
He leaps from the notable seat.
There's no need to remember him,
His tale's mood is meaningful grim.
But those who want continued art,
Legend plays an important part.
The art of sound shall never cease,
So kind, our man, preserving keys.
No one knows where history sleeps,
His heart wakes and secretly leaps.
In the dark of perishing souls,
Lies some of his meaningful goals.
All the years summed gracefully in,
A sea of dreams, we will all grin.
Our past in a melody's dream,
It's his job to add the last seam.
For those who don't appreciate,
Air's promise to harmonize hate.
It flows, the stream, trickling grace,
It leaps up to caress his face.