Old Man
Old Man (Splintered)
On the walk, the one with wood, along the dunes, a time to saunter
Shoes with old holes on soles now prehistoric
Clip and clop along the winter boardwalk
In the shoes is slender Sam who slides along the boards
Footwear held together with some threads and prayer
Feet too heavy to lift, due to gravity or perhaps a gentler nature
The old man sits to smell the ocean salt and pelican mist
He sits to feed the pigeons some stale official bread from his own kitchen
Rising from the bench becomes a task for cranes and tractors
Bulldozers are needed to lift the spirits
Sam holds on against the winter wind, filled with concrete hollows
Holds on to rails provided there
He retreats into his shell he calls his life
Picks up a splinter with an ouch along the way
Through his unholy holes exposed to nature and the wood
Perhaps it is prime time to buy new shoes or soles
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