My dad and his kidney are getting old.
Older than they were when our house was sold,
after his bills, care, debt, and bank took hold.
‘New transplant’s not likely,’ so I been told.

But I see him here, still here and still there.
He hurts–makes him angry–but he still cares
or tries to, at least, as much as he dares.  

But worse and more stark,
Time just wears and tears.
I see him grow dark.
A whole lot to bear.