::01:13:08::

::: People :::

He looked old.
Aged years since I left him alone in this city
To whither
and to rot.
He was young
Too young for that gnarled yellow smile
for those leathery hands
for those beaten eyes
for the burden
of cast-less existence.
He stood with a posture when he asked you for money
(Not hunched over like a beggar)
As if he was were cutting a deal
just getting a little help so he could start something big
and then leave this place
for a dream.
I gave him a dollar to watch my bike
(as I was off buying things I really didn’t need)
And we firmly shook hands before saying goodbye
“Seeya later man”
“Alright, now, take care of yourself”
I don’t know where that dollar went
I don’t even know his name
But I know I’ll remember those eyes
If I see that old man in heaven

Written by: ~ David Morton