As he approaches, his old age apparent, ancient as the three….But different somehow.
Friday, December 23, 2011
This speaks for itself...FAR
Three old men on a bench in the squares hare the autumn sun with their backs to the wind.
The bench is hard, the company boring, but it’s better here than alone on the couch.
Occasionally they speak, but mostly silent scowls deepen the wrinkles around hollow eyes.
The sun shines brightly yet an air of gloom hangs about the hairy-eared cynics
They are not angry, not in pain, not even hateful
Still they sit, despairing, just awaiting their graves
Into the square comes a fourth old codger.
He spies his cronies huddled on the bench.
Lying warm and bundled in the crook of his arm lies a round faced, red cheeked healthy baby boy
The autumn walk with grand pop has kept him wide awake, full of life and giggly cheerful
The three old glooms rise up and shout greetings.
The air about them has warmed, they are smiling
They all talk at once, their words effervesce conversation bubbling to sweet nostalgia.
Old men, once despaired,now happy to be with old friends.
The baby without ever knowing has restored in them the sweet breath of life.