Poem: The Old Man

Cars and buses, feet on wet pavement,

Swoosh, tap, pace, and rap.

And you, oblivious to time, you lament

At dark windows, docking your cap.

Dapper old man in your battered suit,

Aiming your lighter toward your fag,

A story set in your own head, you salute

All that is familiar to you; a sad,

Weathered building in Muswell Hill.

Lights green, clutch off, and off,

I launch myself into now, and still

Seeing you, rush from all that was silent.

 

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