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A Tale Never Told 
The old man, who carried what, appeared to be and empty sack
over his shoulder when he walked through the village, is no more;
and I never got around asking him what was in his jute sack.
 I think he carried around stories untold, dreams and translucent 
memories of childhood. He was the brother of another old man
the one with a white donkey who came to our village selling 
juicy, big lemons; alas he too has gone.  He said of his brother, 
the dreamer, walked amongst the stars and had forgotten how 
to talk except to trees rose bushes and animals in the forest.
I once saw him in the glade playing mouth harmonica to a flock 
of sheep that for once forgot to eat. When seeing me he stopped,
got up, smiled shyly and walked his way followed by snow white
rabbits; I fancied they were angels. I look up to the October sky
and sense his shadow and smile casting peace upon me.

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