An Old Man Poem by Ronald Stuart Thomas

An Old Man

Rating: 3.1


Looking upon this tree with its quaint pretension
Of holding the earth, a leveret, in its claws,
Or marking the texture of its living bark,
A grey sea wrinkled by the winds of years,
I understand whence this man's body comes,
In veins and fibres, the bare boughs of bone,
The trellised thicket, where the heart, that robin,
Greets with a song the seasons of the blood.

But where in meadow or mountain shall I match
The individual accent of the speech
That is the ear's familiar? To what sun attribute
The honeyed warmness of his smile?
To which of the deciduous brood is german
The angel peeping from the latticed eye?


Submitted by Andrew Mayers

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kumarmani Mahakul 04 March 2019

The honeyed warmness of his smile we understand with breeze of life. An old man's accent of speech we still remember. This is a brilliant poem very well penned.

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