“What’s in his head?”

I wondered, as I stared at him.

“What’s on his head?”

I wondered as I stared at it from my seat, 

realizing he had partial alopecia. 

That one round, smooth, oily, bald spot


Drowning in his clothes with a color as brown as dust

I could not tell if they were dirty or just brown

His shoes had seen better days


I observed his facial expression

Seemed to me like he was in a dilemma 

as he paced in no certain manner


Sane or insane, 

I could not tell…


…till he spoke!


His voice so fruity 

His accent so creamy, I could taste it


He was courteous and full of wisdom

An erudite too, I assumed, 

as I finally sighted his bag, books, papers and files 

arranged neatly on a bench.

He sipped tea at intervals from a transparent plastic bowl 

The same type my grandfather liked to use


He wrote, what? 

Probably his will or a letter to his unborn great granddaughter. 


He seemed to know it was his last days

Reason he wore the color of the earth

He was probably having memories while I watched him. 

He looked up and slowly smiled at me 

Like I was a part of his past

Perhaps I reminded him of his first love…


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