Destination Poem by Deva De Silva

Sun grows calm in the crimson sky
Softly caressing the arched back
A lone man sitting semi-upright
On a scarred wooden bench
Decaying wood planks
Peeling soggy paint
Discoloured and marked with time
Embraces a tall lean frame
A gust of spring air blows
Parting thick grey hair
Baring a scalp of pale white
My fingers hover in air
A torso hunched trembles
Old hands clasped on lap
Purposely and gracefully
Hugs the arms criss-crossed
Squinting brown eyes gaze
A place in horizon
Only he can sense,
Only he can grasp,
Which I long to see...