Old Man

This old man must look at me and reminisce with pride.
Of a time when only soft wrinkles surrounded his eyes.
He must see the energy in mine and travel in time
to when he used to hunt for adventure and beautiful dimes.
Does he detect a strong swagger chilled in slacks and a shirt
and remember stalking home turf for trouble and skirts?
He senses my aura as I write and recalls quiet nights,
when he laid down on rooftops and pondered on his life -
No kids, few bills, still looking for Ms. Right,
"Grey hair? Brother please, my locks are slick, black and bright."
I finally asked the old man what he really saw in the kid.
He replied, "You'll miss your life youngster, thinking about his."