| Old Growth Worn knarled trunk hardened with age Reaching up with scrawny youthful branches to heaven The flowers at its peak are fading with summer Fresh green leaves spring forth from winter dead branches Singing a song of rebirth Bees hum sucking the last of feeble flowers' beauty. Weather worn man counts his pennies for the play Living life of dirt and squallor To escape for two hours time in someone else's dream of glamour. He rides the bus around the town watching other people's talk Mentally noting an encyclopedia brain full of phrases filled with life. He won't look you in the eye for long, but will bend your ear a moment, If you let him, To recount the images that he passes. He's a regular He has his path which he walks to his own song Marking the seasons of change Counting and planning to get one more look At the lives outside his door.© 1997 wendi loomis "Reflection in Fragments" |