OLD MAN

OLD MAN

There’s an old man in my head,
I don’t know if he is a combination
of all the old men I have known,
or my imagination. Or is he me?

He is so real I wouldn’t be surprised
if he filled out a tax form. He literally
consumes me, for that reason I don’t
let him out unless I’m alone.
Because he almost always brings
tears, and yet he always lifts me up,
with the love he has for his queen.

He loves her – so deeply –
so completely – so unselfishly,
he makes me envious of his sadness.
I have caught him, when he didn’t
know I was watching, dancing with
her while he swept the dance floor.
Or on a cold stormy night he was
holding her hand and whispering
to her, as they watched the moon
over a lake, that I couldn’t see.

He has never told me about her,
this is too personal for him to talk
about. I don’t know if she has
gone on ahead, and is waiting for him,
or is she lying on a sick bed, or is
she in his imaginary world, waiting
for him to come home for supper.

I know her hands are soft and
young, her eyes are bright, and
her walk is bouncy, and her voice
is like birds singing.
I also know that when he is with
her, he has no pain. His strength
returns, and he is king.

Do you understand why
I’m crying right now?

© Prof. Don T. Nomuch 2006