Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Reflections

My concern is about that old man.  He follows me -

always there, with his worn clothing and

ragged manners.



He seems to know me.

His hands are course - having gripped

the wooden wheelbarrow handles over

years of dirt and rock.  His shoes

like those of a barbers -

worn with miles -  yet

having gone nowhere.



He concerns me when I look at him.

What is it he wants?  Where is he

going?  What thoughts are hidden

behind those eyes?





I just may confront him

the next time we

shave.


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