Looking At The Face Of An Old Man....

when is see that old man,
whose face is hardened by the changes of the seasons
by the cruelty of time,

his skin is dark brown, thick as a pachyderm

now loose, and bones curving
like a question mark of
existentialism,

he must have been tough, as i bring him back to the past of his youth,
riding on a black horse, carrying his scimitar
conquering tyrants

worshiping God and wooing his woman
making love
gently with the softness of her being

and i go back
on that wrinkled face, bowing to his destiny,
surrendering
calmly to the embrace of death
his final friend....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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