Threadbare hands
dark blue veins protrude
across arms, elbow to finger
swollen skin hides gold wedding band
knuckles poke out, like small stones
rigidity stifles writing
Years a poet
born to scribe
he rocks
in his worn cane chair
his mind travels
shrewd and clever
he uses his husky voice
to tell his tales
Silvered-tongued
roadmap of life
alone,no one heeds
naps away the bleary afternoons
hands crisscrossed