Body bent and twisted
Gnarled fingers gripping his cane
Face weathered with age
An old man enters the bar
Perching himself upon the barstool
Ordering a drink from the bartender
Silently he sips one after another
As the time ticks away
Glazed eyes staring into nowhere
I watch expectantly
If only, his mind I could read
What magnificent stories would lie within?
Too late, I'll never know
As he wobbles out the door
Disappointedly, I take a gulp
And think of what might have been
Wow... I love your vivid images, feeling like I'm sitting next to you by the bar... Great work Billy :)
Amazing story in nicely flowing verses. Every person has this flame inside, that flame that lights up all our memories. I agree so much with you, every elderly person must have a treasure of brilliant stories.
At the casino as I went for my once a night brandy a young lady grabbed my arm and wanted to know my story. I told it to her. She was infinitely pleased to\find a relaxed happy old guy in the crowd. Cost her a brandy. I wear a skipper's cap and a flowered vest in the guise of the casino's caricaturist. Done about s dozen rather extraordinary ones. Write some limericks. You have the talent.
A story waiting to be told. Also a story not addressed in poetry before.
Disappointedly, I take a gulp And think of what might have been... Beautiful poem.Thanks
I think I've seen him too, or a reasonable facsimile. A true slice of life write, well detailed and easy to relate to. An excellent penning. tyfs
You really captured a snapshot in time. Like a great painting.
An inquisitive train of thought set aside for honest reflection. Thanks for sharing Billy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The dark melancholy of the refugees from sunlight, the pub. We have all observed an old man like this at one point or another in life. But looking is not the same as seeing. You have SEEN the gnarled hand grip the cane and it shows in your writing.