That Friendly Old Guy

The older man sees from wrinkled sockets.
She's shown up too late, and can't be his,
And can't, in her youth, understand that
His shuffles, his genial words, his low-key
Kindnesses, constitute efforts to draw her
To him. She is someone's already. He
Hasn't a chance, and he knows. He knows
That hopes aren't facts, but he seeks her
Again to bask in her beauty, to feel in her
Presence at least an affection he feels
Nowhere else, and, inside of those sockets,
He's somewhat at peace. As he wishes
And grieves for what never can be, he's
Aware that he won't very long.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 56 times
Written on 2010-02-22 at 12:45

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