THE OLD MAN IN THE PARK
There’s an old man sitting on a bench in the park.
A scruffy dog by his feet, on his lips a witty remark.
Not a tooth in his mouth, but he smiles anyway.
And if you ask him why, this is what he will say:
“I have a song in my head, and a smile on my face.
I have lived a full life of both sorrow and grace.
I have love so plenty, and stories to share.
And I live my life without a worry or care.”
His wrinkles are a map of a long, lasting life.
Of hard work, three sons, and a now deceased wife.
His hearing may be bad, and his vision turning grey.
But if you ask him, this is what he will say:
“I have seen my share of wonders, my friend,
And I will hear the songs in my heart to the end.
So what need have I for these senses, I ask?
If they fail me, my memories shall rise to the task.”
The old dog by his side gives a soft little whine.
Licking his hand as if to tell him it is time.
He smiles and stands, shakes my hand for goodbye.
Then wanders off with a twinkle in his eye.
There’s a young man sitting on a bench in the park.
Sitting in silence as it slowly grows dark.
He is crying quietly, though he smiles anyway.
And if you ask him why, this is what he will say:
“Our father brought us here when we were just boys.
He’d tell us stories, and we’d play with our toys.
Now he is gone, but memories remain
And remembering helps soothe the pain.”
So sometimes I sit upon the bench beneath the shade.
Contemplating the light of life, and how it will fade.
I remember the words the old man used to say.
And though I am sad, I smile anyway.
For I have a song in my head, and a smile upon my face.
I am living a full life of both sorrow and grace.
I am loving and caring, and once I grow old,
I will have plenty of stories of my own to be told.
Keirry Hargis (Age 13)
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