An Old Man

I saw an old man and I wanted to cry.

I see him everywhere, always surprising me.

In the shade, hunched over, under a tree by the courtyard, looking small.

Selling cookies at the Farmer’s Market. Quiet, drawn into himself, no customers.

So I buy in abundance.

Nothing I need with money I don’t have.

I see him everywhere.

His weathered face, mustache hiding his quiet lips.

Never moving, always leaving me wanting to hear more.

And when they do, sometimes I can’t run away fast enough.

Into myself, bracing myself.

Against what I want so badly.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s