3/3/05 – Stories

Monday Poem, A Year and a Day

Stories – 3/3/05

There is an old man out on the island with me.

You don’t see him in his yard much anymore, though he once was out all the time.

He’s mostly deaf, though he can still hear a little.
He’s mostly blind, though he can still see shadows.

Almost a century has passed in his life and I would love to know the stories,

but how do you ask?

Do you say, “You shall be gone soon, so let me know your secrets.”

How rude to ask, even in softer words.
How presumptuous to request for the keys to his life.

Still, bones tell no good yarns and then, it will be too late.

Some day, I too wish to be old.
I hope they will be braver than I.

Ask away.

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