The Old Man.

There he sat,

A man of many years,

Sitting quietly by My River,

Looking around

At the natural world

That surrounded him.

He would pause,

And a smile came upon his face.

I wonder what he was thinking?

Was he thinking of a happy time

Back in his long life,

Or was he smiling

On the joy of nature,

As it unfolded around him.

A look of sadness was seen,

Some memory of times gone by.

The smile returned,

And a look of contentment

Pervaded his face and his body.

As I looked at the old man once more

I recognised him.

That old man,

Was me.