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