Old Man in the Park Feeding Pigeons

life moments

The haze around my vision lets

Me know my mortalities’ end

Shadows gather there on the rim

Remains of missed opportunity

 

The ghosts of past times play

Like children in the schoolyard

Darting back for one last glimpse

Jealous for my mind’s attention

 

Songs from my youth fight

To return, every note clears

As the strings of my heart play

Former desires bloom again

 

Passers-by see only the old man

He comes daily to feed the pigeons

Sitting on the same bench, humming

The old songs to himself and his friends.

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

Great character study here. Often what the world sees is only what appears on the surface. Both melancholy and poignant, your words are well written. Lydi**