To Cast a Stone
A furrowed brow on the old man’s face
Mining memories to recall again
Smiling to himself as he would trace
A detail of humor or maybe of pain
Ignoring the world, himself there alone
On the bank a tranquil pond
Reminiscing over time that was gone
Unaware of the things beyond
He talked to the image reflected there
Clearly it was that of he
Fixed so firmly within his stare
Was an old man there now to see
Haggard and aged the boy he had known
The one of who he had thought
The old man could but cast a stone
And erase what time had wrought
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