Sometimes we'll pass by in a hurry when we really
should stop for a while....
I saw him one day on a bench in a street
throwing bits of stale bread to a bird at his feet.
A glint in his eyes and a cap on his head
he would smile at the bird as it pecked at the bread.
So I sat for a while and we talked of his life
of the days long ago, of his work, of his wife;
They had raised seven children though two girls had died
And he told of the tears that his late wife had cried.
But life had moved on as it does at a pace
And the heartaches and joys all wrote lines on his face
Now he sits on a bench in a street every day
And throws bread to the birds as time whittles away.
© 2016 Jason Endfield
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