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| Old man from the bottom of my poesy ... |
Miles past, on the road ahead,
I saw the man pause while on pace-4 speed,
And fall down,
Through my balcony.
He was not that far,
Just as I’d caught up with the twists and shrinks
On his face, cheeks and limbs on a bare whole.
He looked at me.
He told it all.
Yes. From miles past my window,
I could feel his gaze, no, the silver strands of his corny memories.
Coming to me,
Without a stamp, seal or crossed arms.
Searing through me.
Without an apology, fear or want, he fell with a shushed thud on the tar.
I saw the man pause while on pace-4 speed,
And fall down,
Through my balcony.
He was not that far,
Just as I’d caught up with the twists and shrinks
On his face, cheeks and limbs on a bare whole.
He looked at me.
He told it all.
Yes. From miles past my window,
I could feel his gaze, no, the silver strands of his corny memories.
Coming to me,
Without a stamp, seal or crossed arms.
Searing through me.
Without an apology, fear or want, he fell with a shushed thud on the tar.
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