He just another antique in this place

Older now he was
To old for people to care
He sits ruminating about bygone times
He and his memories soon to be lost in time
He felt as old as the antiques that adorned his room
Covered in patina from the damp and in the gloom
He remembers how life was full of joy,
But somewhere, somehow it just faded away
Now he sits in the dark and days are grey
And cold as well as lonely
Its not how he felt his life would go
As he sits in the electric heater glow.
Its his only source of heat
And only source of light
Wrapped in layers of clothes to keep him warm at night
His grey hair hangs down over his grizzled face
He has no one who visits his place
And he knows he will die lonely
And no one will notice within this tiny dwelling space.