I saw an old man waiting, staying out of morning until it came to him. He finally stood, tall and slender, and it occurred to me that he was so thin he might need to borrow a shadow if he needed to see where he had been, His wrist watch dangled on his arm,barely held on by his hand and I thought of the painting, “Time Exploding”, by Salvador Dali. This scenario reminded me that songs and memories and the colors of morning are all here for us to enjoy…but only for that season of life that is shorter than we first imagined.

Time Exploding Salvadore Dali

time waits for no one

slumping
like mulberry branches over a split rail fence
twisted green with sangria bulbs

he waited in rusted silence
as sounds from yesterday danced in his head

songs barged in,
packing themselves in darkened corners
and disturbing attics
left to die in their own melodies
quietly still

lyrics, marinated and drowned
suffocated by once-loved memories,
now lay limp as lifeless clocks
embracing minute hands
motionless and quiet as a circular parade

no one saw the tear in his eye
nor the tremor in his hand
as he waited in a darkened doorway
for the light and warmth of morning

his posture held him captive
punched in like a deflated basketball
unable to lean back
where relaxation and stillness once comforted him

soon he would stand tall
his slender frame borrowing a shadow,
his step into the day calculated,
a reminder
to look both ways before crossing