An old man sat on the edge
Of his bed.
His feet hung like weighted sacks
Attached to the base of his slender legs.
Of his bed.
His feet hung like weighted sacks
Attached to the base of his slender legs.
He stared with heavy thought
About where he was.
He breathed deep
And slid his feet into a pair
Of scuffed Oxford loafers.
About where he was.
He breathed deep
And slid his feet into a pair
Of scuffed Oxford loafers.
He slid his feeble arms into
A modest short sleeve button up.
The old man walked slowly to the
Tiny kitchen in the northern most corner
Of his tiny apartment.
A modest short sleeve button up.
The old man walked slowly to the
Tiny kitchen in the northern most corner
Of his tiny apartment.
Two hard fried eggs, two fatty strips of bacon
And a mostly burnt slice of toasted rye.
He ate with great patience
And sipped a cup of black coffee
He had brewed on the stove.
And a mostly burnt slice of toasted rye.
He ate with great patience
And sipped a cup of black coffee
He had brewed on the stove.
His days were nothing to hurry through.
Watching a sparrow eat
From the sun baked bird feeder
Outside his Kitchen window.
The old man said nothing
But thought often.
Watching a sparrow eat
From the sun baked bird feeder
Outside his Kitchen window.
The old man said nothing
But thought often.
He sat a long time
Waiting for nothing in particular;
His days were nothing to hurry through.
He would pace
Staring at knick knacks
His wife arranged so carefully,
Trying to imagine
What the hell he had them for.
Waiting for nothing in particular;
His days were nothing to hurry through.
He would pace
Staring at knick knacks
His wife arranged so carefully,
Trying to imagine
What the hell he had them for.
The old man didn't bother
Turning on lights during day time hours.
Defused light flooded
The apartment with the reddish, pink hew
Of his wife’s home sewn drapes.
Turning on lights during day time hours.
Defused light flooded
The apartment with the reddish, pink hew
Of his wife’s home sewn drapes.
He read a digest from years ago
Like he did the day before.
The stories flattened out
Like stale re-runs.
Like he did the day before.
The stories flattened out
Like stale re-runs.
His days were nothing
To hurry through.
His age showed
In the ripped seems
Of the crushed velvet couch.
To hurry through.
His age showed
In the ripped seems
Of the crushed velvet couch.
He sat in a brown
Bingo hall style folding chair
Thumbing the pages of his digest.
His legs were crossed at the knees,
Exposing the mismatched socks
Bunching around his ankles.
Bingo hall style folding chair
Thumbing the pages of his digest.
His legs were crossed at the knees,
Exposing the mismatched socks
Bunching around his ankles.
The pinkness faded
From the room.
He turned on a single
Standing lamp.
From the room.
He turned on a single
Standing lamp.
With a warmed microwave
Meal from the oven.
He ate with great patience;
His days were nothing to hurry through.
Meal from the oven.
He ate with great patience;
His days were nothing to hurry through.
He watched the six o'clock news
And retired to his bed.
He undressed and lied down.
And retired to his bed.
He undressed and lied down.
He thought about his
Wife and where she was at.
He thought about when
He might joint her.
Wife and where she was at.
He thought about when
He might joint her.
His days were nothing to hurry through
But his nights stretched on forever.
But his nights stretched on forever.
Notes from the Author:
ReplyDeleteI remember walking around the mall one day a few years ago. I watched an old feeble man walk slowly by himself around the mall. It is possible we was attempting mall walk for exercise, but he being lapped by the much younger 60 year olds making their rounds that morning. I thought it was kind of sad and inspiring at the same time. He didn't seem to be in a hurry as if his days were nothing to hurry through. It was one of those instances that stick in my mind and was the inspiration for this piece.
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