Morning walkers were returning to home
I had no mission; so I had no rush
I sat on a bench nearby;
Chill wind from Lake Ontario was blowing over me
An elderly guy with weird look came by and sat beside me.
He gave a puzzling glimpse at me
I tried to smile; the man opened his sack
He put his hand inside and was searching for something
After a while he brought out a packet of apple pie
He offered me one courteously; then started biting
‘It's tasty, you could try', told the guy
Thereafter I have seen this man many times
In the metro, in MacDonald
And in many other places
That puzzling glimpse
That weird look
But I was so shy
I could not ever taste his apple pie
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
like the flow of the poem.really well written.imagery, narration of a story, the mystery..all the elements to hold on the readers..nice write! !