Old Man… Poem by Mark Heathcote

When your voice oscillates, cracks appear
Instability and hostility make your face shake.
Lakeside waters quiver—exotic birds shiver
Disappear.

Old age lines up silver birch tree roots
'Does your old age grace you, garnish you old fool?
Are you too antiquated—stubborn as a mule?
What love' if any guides you through the woods?

October absorbs like canker rotten fruits
But somehow, you tender a sweet peas tendril smile.
Through all of them cold clotted thrombosis veins.
I can't easily comprehend the reasons why.

I guess the drum beats of your heart:
That is marching faster away.
Beats just as hard and as loud today,
Glad peeling back these skies' grey clouds