The old man

He was an old man, through my young eyes

His long life had manifested itself inescapably

He walked with two wooden sticks

And wore shoes that accommodated his corns

He no longer spoke his fathers language

Having lived in a foreign country for so long

But memories were scattered around his room

They kept him company during the winter

On my last visit with him he tried to teach me

Many of the skills that he had acquired

From laying bricks in Flemish bond

To personal hygiene tips he’d learned while serving

He called the night before his sons found him

He was cheery and talked on for a long while

He asked after Margaret, was she doing ok

Goodbye I said, see you soon

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