man at a bar

looking down the bar

                                                 at the slumped man….

                         at the hollow sockets clinging

                                               to the eyes

         you can feel the fatigue

                                                that lingers over each breath,

                           word,

                                       glance,

                                                     smile

if you listen carefully you can hear it

                                           gently pleading for calm …for

     a little more energy …and a little more

                                                                               hope

it is not depression that slouches on the face of

                                                             this relic

                       just a deep consciousness

                                                                 that after three-quarters

of a century

                   spring has morphed from

                                             new lily-of-the-valley and iris and peonies

                            to endless sunsets,  protracted autumn

                                           and the inevitable anticipation of

  the winter of everafter

                            there is something perplexingly proud

                                                      in the miles of wrinkles

mapping his face

                                                  for having trekked those

                 mountains, valleys, rivers, trails and bridges

                                         alone

and with the occasional companion

                                                   who really “got”

                       who he is ….what he values….

                                                          what he dreams

               and what he fears….

                                             the piano-man

still plays long after the crowd has

                                     departed

                                                             clinging to one last riff

       knowing the silence

                                         will fill the room and both of their hearts

           and all of the why’s

                                     and the when’s and the how’s

                        will settle in the

sawdust on the floor
                              waiting for tomorrow’s dancers

              eagerly anticipating

                                                his next latest melody….

 and a new tune rises

                                from the keyboard