His voice was faint, lips feeble
tattered coat
woolen cap
matching his fragile fingers,
presumably
six decades old.
"I read your poems in magazine,
they are a marvel.
Do you mind reciting one?"
It was music to my ears.
Listening to
orisons of a cacti
wrecked oaths in
unsettled seas
wear and tear
of faces sketched
the nodding head
cold wrinkles plead
"one more,
one more please!"
Soon daytime got fed up
and my elderly guest was gone
Later I found
a note which said,
"Dear Poet, when your eyes
will travel over these lines
I must have left;
but by birth I am stone-deaf
yet your printed words
had shown me so much warmth.
Do not think
the hour was wasted,
believe that your presence has lasted
among my years
falling by".
