January 2008 Poetry

The old man didn’t have much. Just the clothes on his back

And his life savings in a bag he taxied

It was a cold morning he shuffled inside and sat in the corner booth

And graciously waited for his coffee and doughnut.

The owners welcomed him as he brought

customers and know it’s him they come to see.

8:30AM and it’s a good crowd. Young and old faces greet him

some regulars and some curious lookers to catch a glimpse

He didn’t care for attention just left alone

Some gave him loose change from their buys

Some sat to chat and he obliged them with stories of his travels

It was obvious that is what they cherished, his stories

It made them smile and some were moved with compassion

and thanked him with a hug and a pat on the back.

Sometimes, the mothers brought their kids to be touched by him

It seemed like a miracle was a Kodak moment and he was in another world.

One little one felt comfortable sitting on his lap and pulled on his goatee.

Laughter rang through the doughnut house which startled the lad and began to cry.

It was quiet again. A young couple milled through.

Word was out that this was the place to see him.

The young man whispered to the owner, “Will he tell us a story?”

“Hey old man tell us a story, we traveled far and in need of harmony”

He asked where they came from. He motioned them to sit across from him.

“A long time ago, before your father was born…“, he began.

I wanted to listen more but my bus was due any minute.

I stood up and the old man paused for a second, looked up and waved at me.

By: Harrison Lowe

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