July 22, 2019

 

The Old Man

 
 
 

The Old Man

Dawn creeps in.
The cock crows,
scratching our heads.

Wondering what just happened.
Embers fading,
ashes flying,
eyes like a smoke filled room.

Morning dies like a flower,
petals dropping to the ground,
shriveled, dry, brown.

Brown, on second thought,
his eyes were brown,
and sparkling like topaz.

Words still gushing from his mouth
like a swarm of angry bees,
the story continues on, and on.

Checking watches,
packing up,
it was time to leave again.

Another night of eerie tall tales,
that no one else could tell quite like he,
and the old man knew them all.






Article © Ann Christine Tabaka. All rights reserved.
Published on 2018-08-13
Image(s) are public domain.


1 Reader Comments

antony king
08/13/2018
03:42:31 PM

I adore Christine's work. She has the ability to vividly draw you into her world, thus sharing her heart along the way.

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By Ann Christine Tabaka: