Monday, 21 October 2013

Things Forgotten in Old Age

An old man forgets things, leaves his wallet on the bus,
his hearing aid in a café, his cap at a bookshop, his life
falls behind in a fog of confusing memories, and all the fuss
upsets him, his wife, the people who gather—as when a knife
suddenly thwangs into a target and everyone shudders:
what is this all about? Who threw it? She
stares out into the darkness of the arena, her shoulders
trembling but unhurt, and wonders is it he
who once came courting in the early spring
or another, some white-haired, grey-eyed fool,
a stalker at the end of days.  Now everything
resembles empty speculations—cruel
hopes and aspirations—and all forgotten.

He takes aim one last time, but all is rotten.

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