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