Old Man ©

Poem by CiCi
Old man I smell your fear

It weighs upon your jowls

And shackles your feet with apprehension

You falter, hesitant as though the gray clouds encloaked you

Old man, a tremor ripples through your

Frame as the prickly air nips your nape

I have seen your kind before

I have seen your kind before

Crouched beneath your tattered eaves

Anger, pride… only a veil of fear

Veiling your eyes as your gaze

Reach beyond your stoop

The first flake of snow gently glides

To rest on your brow

Is this what you fear old man

Did the coming chill begin in your bones?

As the gray day blankly reflects from your eyes

Weary, broken and exposed

Are you hating me?

Hating my youth old man –

Is there even room for hate

Room, among your fears?