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Old Man

Like an image from an Ansel Adams photograph,
his dark brown skin stretched thin
over a face that has seen better days.
He hurried down the avenue at a pace that belied the need
for the walking stick he held tightly by his side.
Where was he hurrying to?
Where was he hurrying from?
Was there someone anxiously awaiting his arrival?
Was there someone, anyone awaiting his return?
Was he a father? A brother?
For certain he was some mother’s son.
Were there little ones at family reunions who took joy in quizzing him
about life before color TV, cell phones and the internet?
Was there someone, anyone
who really cared?
Or  … embarrassed, did they shy away
and turn their gaze?
As, with walking stick in hand,
he hurried down the avenue.
Tenthltr2u (c) 2010
About tenthltr2u (1076 Articles)
A child of the 60's I often feel out of place in the world as it exist today. Too much excess, too much materialism, too few people who genuinely care or give a damn. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. Antoine de Saint-Exupery

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