The Rocking Man
The Rocking Man
Three tables away there sat a rocking man.
He smiled at all and no one,
Exacting just an occasional worried look.
Rhythm out of sync with mundane music,
Oozing out of hidden speakers.
Cock-eyed stare through glasses thick and smeared
Keen to see perhaps a world of sense
In keeping with a mind encased in unknown chains,
Never still save for a change of direction whilst
Grinning at something maybe half remembered.
Moving now with faceless carer close to hand, with
Ambling gait, disjointed, pigeon-toed,
Never having said a single word.
Copyright © Tim Riding | Year Posted 2020
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