Reflections

Reflections

 

A bent back,

And gnarled knees,

These I saw first,

Old clothes,

Carefully mended and clean,

And a hat

Perhaps older than he,

Shading clear

Too-knowing eyes,

And a mouth

Etched in that permanent

Sardonic grin,

That many wondered at,

Without knowing why.

He greeted me by name,

As though we had ever met.

He sat too easily for his age,

And spoke too clearly for mine.

He told my life,

In accomplishment,

In mistake,

In a moment,

And said not a word.

All my deeds laid bare,

In the tale of this familiar stranger.

I had no answer to give,

He was my past,

And knew me too well.

I turned from the lake then,

Knowing when I return,

He will be there yet,

And may judge me as thoroughly as now,

Though we’d spoken not,

And said everything.

 

Cliff Lake 7/13/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024


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