His face is like mine, worn and etched by time.
His eyes have seen empires rise and fall,
He's a worrier now, a little tired and frail,
But his spirit still burns strong, unyielding and tall.
He's seen kings become beggars, borders shift and change,
Yet through it all, he's held onto hope's tender flame.
He cooks for his wife each night, with love and care,
And rides his old Vespa through the countryside.
He's a man of simple pleasures, humble and true,
A warrior with the wisdom of the ancient few.
Written by Mahmudun Nabi.
Cover photo by Heqi Valiansyah.