Old Man's Ploom
The old man's dipping bread.
An earthy porous piece.
He's plunging in his coffee
and drawing forth in peace.
And when he's sipping from it,
he's weening at it's lip.
His thoughts befuddled actions.
His stare a slow, dumb dip.
His sip is quick and quickening.
He's quick to raise his cup.
His last sip before leaving-
His paper folded up.
A shadow of a man
that's left within the room.
A quiet hush around it.
A ghost he's left to bloom.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2014
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