Time Will Tell Poem by Francie Lynch

I scanned the old man
Through my translucent curtain.
He stood before my door, hand raised,
Seeming ready to knock.
Wires ran into his large ears;
His waddle swayed over his crew neck,
Beneath a brown corduroy jacket.
Liver spots dotted his high forehead,
And the back of his hand.
He listed and bobbed
Like a Huron laker waiting to unload.
He had a distinct and not unfamiliar look;
A man with full faculties.
I opened the door to him,
But he said, 'It's not time.'
'Time? ' I asked.
'To let me in.'