Loner. Poem by Bryan Sefton

His face is lined with creases.
Round his eyes, crosses.
Horizontal, slashes.
Time will do that to you.
His eyes have seen it all
But he does not condemn.
He has learned patience
In his world of men,
Condemned to move
He is, for the moment
Sitting silent.
He does not curse
Fate or his predicament.
For the moment
The world is his oyster.
His cup of coffee makes it so.
There are places to go
But he hasn't found them yet.