by Jim Wood

Created on: September 16, 2008

An old man, slightly teary eyed
sits on a bench in quiet solitude
we see each other, I taking strides
and he, a nose slightly lifted, attitude

I seek his attention away from the past
but my old mans thoughts seem fixed,
firmly and tightly, bound hard and fast
shall I make my interest known, a trick

He sees me staring caring not a whit, too
refined to brush me aside, a lowered head

instead, My new desire compels me, commit
to the task and find a way to help instead.

I'm on the bench being ignored by intention
his tears look larger from my new position
I try, how you doing partner? My intervention
He turns his head to measure my condition

Years are his mask now worn with indifference
he squints to better understand my purpose
there is nothing wrong here, your presence
can make no matter and I want not your chatter

Take your self to the young of heart and mind
you measure the methods of your persistence
we were once so minded and life has been unkind
tell them they must try to seek the essence, a life

Of good will, friendship, family and compassion
you too may share some tears for the way of things
my story is long and forever out of fashion, not
to be shared in the presence of other wonderings

Be on your way, take pleasure you made a step
to get closer to an old mans sorrow, unsuccessful
but a worthy effort even if my secrets kept
you will have your own bench for tears to swell.

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