The Old Man And Me Poem by Ijanric Howe

Donated by Family and Friends, In Memory of DAVID HATCHER,18th February 1941 - 11th February 2004, 'Sit with me and watch the sea'

Sea curls and froths, unfolding at my feet.
I sit, invited by the plaque,
lost in the sea’s enveloping calm,
watching passers-by meander across the promenade.

I am joined by an old man, who sits cross-legged, loading his pipe.
I watch him light up, tufts of smoke issuing from pursed lips.
His gritty voice cuts over the rustle of the sea like a fisherman’s.
He tells me great tales of the sea,
how he lost his wife last autumn,
and how he intends to make some money selling carvings.
He produces a small figure from his jacket pocket: a woman holding a bouquet.
“My wife, ” he says, holding the small statue up to the light
in his gnarled hands, weathered like searocks.

“Did you know him? ” I ask, gesturing to the plaque.
The old man nods,
“We used to gather driftwood together when the tide was out.
“He burned his, I carved mine.”
He pauses, looks up and down the deserted beach,
his hand returning to his pocket, maybe to finger another carving hidden there.
We sit in silence for a while, listening to the surf.
A solitary seagull cries overhead.

A dog sprints up and sniffs the old man’s shoe.
Without looking down,
he fumbles for a crust of bread from his other pocket, offers it to the dog.
“Good boy, Sheppey.”
A woman calls the dog. “Ben! Come here! ”
I watch the dog scamper away to its mistress.
The man returns the untouched crust and continues to look out to sea.