The Old-Timer Poem by Dennis Go
The Old-Timer
'It's a fine day this morning.
How 'bout a cup of coffee
And bread? '
The old-timer asked me
With his radiance
And happiness.
His head sprinkled the gut lines
With old age devouring years
Its zest
Of stories long ago,
With his weak breath
And weariness.
'Thanks a lot sir.' I replied.
'Let the food be yours alone
Instead.'
The old-timer smiled back
As visible
As emptiness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:26:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
