Reflections

aDarkerMind

I have not met a morning yet that I cared much about.

an old man slumped, looking down at his boots.

how more bent can a bent spine be?

how much heavier must a cane be,

before it rests against a tree older than itself?;

 

it is only the young men who skate across frozen ponds

with half-baked ideas about this and that.

this being the tale of  the mature cheddar

that being the tale of the impotent brie

young men with hair neatly parted;

 

young men with new socks and shiny shoes.

no morning wind would dare intrude, nor ask directions from;

wind is only wind, after all.

and what is the worth of a thick winter coat

if cruel winds were wrapped and stored neatly away?

 

but what of the aging wind who messes only gray hair?

will he strike gold and be gifted the life of gentle breeze?

will he burrow beneath the warm blanket of solace?

or must he,like me, rest beside an aging tree

and wait for breath to catch him up?

 

and what of  the scattered dentures on turbulent seas?

a century has passed since my ship came in.

and I didn't care much then for the taste of freshly hooked Trout!

I am as close to the sea now as I choose to be.

and far enough away so as not to swim for my supper;

 

an old man in old bricks with oddments of useless things.

as useless as my eyes are when a midnight read

dies with each chime of Grandfather Clock

who once put a buckle to my backside!

I often wonder if he remembers me;

 

I often wonder if he remembers anything at all;

perhaps now his breath is as short as mine.

or do ashes die, as all old things do?;

was it  we who once dined at the captains table?

when that old bugger, the sea Trout

reared its' ugly head from between my gums

and took my nose clean off?

 

perhaps I will remember tomorrow.

perhaps tomorrow will remember me.

perhaps I will awake and remember the sound of my own voice.

or even the sound of his;

all will be revealed

when we reconvene at the Sunday morning breakfast table.

I have forgotten how eggs enjoy our Sundays together.

sunny side up; I think:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  • Author: Melvin James (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 15th, 2021 02:40
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 24
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Goldfinch60

    Resting against that aging tree gives us more energy to continue in our life and I am so fortunate to have found them to keep me going into old age.

    Sunny side up please.

    Andy

  • aDarkerMind

    Sunny Side Up it will be Andy.



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