Old Timers Poem by Romesh De Silva

There is a precise moment in the continuous world of time, where it seems to be so impossible for truth to be true, and a smile to be painted as a happy picture
Fictitious and fictional memories analysed with virgin eyes
Conclusive dreams redirected, rendered, and landscaped
The man next door withered and old, suddenly smiles
The priceless memories in his head, black and white colour
World of thanks
Moment past, soon to be forgotten.