Stooped over, swaying,
Negotiating balance as he
Moved down the sidewalk.
I have known this Old Man--
Since he was a Young Man,
Back when he captained great ships
And contolled destinies.
I see no glimpses of the past,
In whatever the stroke left behind;
What Greatness remains
Is not readily identifiable.
This Old Man never meets my eye
And I wonder if he remembers me:
I walk beside him and invite
The past to revisit us both.
But he doesn't remember me,
Doesn't see the admiration
In my questioning eyes:
What happened to this Great Man?
"Thank you for all you've done,"
I said, in an effort to express my heart;
"I'm not done!" he said, telling me
About scholarships he's funded.
"Wonderful," I said. "Awesome!"
I wipe a tear as he hobbles to his car,
Wondering if the man I'd remembered
Was indeed the man I saw before me:
Old Man.
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