David Smalling Poet Verse

Conversation With a Geriatric

Our conversation were like children feet
Running up the village lane
Our friendship kiting our words, no discrete
Babble, nothing thought as vain
The suddenly our meanings turn this corner
A little groan, another complaint
The sudden sense the body has gotten older
A stiff joint, a discomfort faint
Someplace in a leg, stomach or the shoulder
The sudden closing of the blinds
And a shivering sense the wind is colder
Despite the summer of our minds
Then the yelling went out from us, the voice
Soft, almost regretful, became
In memories and wishes our hearts rejoice
Our flesh is too old for the game.

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Thvia Shetley October 6, 2010 at 5:48 PM I enjoyed reading this as usual of your work. I'm left a bit uncertain as to who 'we' are. Two geriatrics maybe? A geriatric whose body has grown too old to contain the perceived youth of his mind? Or maybe a man visiting an aging relative in a long term care facility? I'm going to go with the 2nd option, it feels more 'right'. A very thought-provoking piece, love.