Old Man

I've seen the old man on the corner, staring into what I had thought was the emptiness of lost days. I've seen the old man on the corner, dressed in yesterday's clothes, his skin weathered, his grey hair blowing in the wind. I've seen the old man on the corner, alone and lonely, although I've never spoken to him to know for sure. He smiles as a handful of neighborhood kids ramble by in a quest for greener pastures. Then his gaze returns to the distant horizon as he pulls his watch from its pocket, winds it, and returns it to its pocket, never looking at the time.

Time passes no matter what the speed. Memories are gathered whether they be good or they be bad. Brown hair turns grey and the styles of today are noticed but no longer important. The why and the how comes of life have mostly been figured out, those that haven't were filed under 'not important'. Comfortable doesn't cover as many things as it used to, having more to do with the mind now than money. I am content, I am happy, I know who I am as I sit on my flagstone porch beside my old house with the yellow door.