Did He Hear? Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

The search for the dead
Never ends; all old men
Passing my house
Look like my father
I almost expect one
To turn left
And come up the steps
With the yellow cloth bag
Full of my favourite fruits - -
Grief gives way to smiles
At how he pretended
That he could hear very well
Without any aids
Even when the aids didn't help him hear,
Nodding his head
As I spoke, he smiled now and then
Mostly imagining a one-sided conversation
Till he was caught out with the wrong gesture - -
Would he have heard the stranger coming?