Nov
11
2012
Only his hands
Gnarled and thin
Like wrinkled tattered
Weathered broadcloth
Showed
From beneath
The starch white
Cuffs of a
Pressed Polyester
Shirt
.
Only his hands
Quick and light
Like bright dancing
Flames of light
Expressed
From behind
The stark pallid
Edge of a
Gruff and hard
Mein
.
Only his hands
Nimble and fleet
Like cool clean
Water cascading
Rushing
From between
The chiseled stone
Wall of a
Cold and cruel
Carcass
.
Only his hands
Betrayed him.
Oct
25
2012
The old man
In the dark grey coat
Looked at
The overcast sky
Heaved a sigh
And rocked back
On the faded green
Park bench
To provide
Momentum
For the climb
To his feet
.
He sighed
It wasn’t a sigh of grief
Or of pain.
Not of satisfaction
Or contentment
But of
Contemplation
And preparation
.
The old man
In the dark grey coat
Planted his
Crooked feet
Heaved a sigh
And rocked forward
On the faded green
Park bench
And stood
Slowly
Not quite erect
Not quite bent.
.
He sighed
It wasn’t a sigh of bitterness
Or of fatigue
Not of weariness
Or hopelessness
But of reminiscence
And remembrance
.
The old man in the grey coat
Straightened his
Sagging shoulders
Heaved a sigh
And turned towards
The faded brown
Path
That led towards
A place that
Was once called
Home
And sighed.