Had his hat on
Was reading the New York Times
Rocked back and forth
Back and forth
Rattle of the surrounding machine
Down the tracks

He had workman's pants
From a boiler room
A shade of oil 
His beard hid his honesty
Long nails flipped the paper
Back and forth

Black boots stood him tall
As his sitting told his story
His blue eyes scattered the paper
For winnings or stories unfolding
Crystal like yesterday's ocean
Didn't catch the date of that paper
As we rocked back and forth

His umbrella was next him
Used it as a cane
Walked around when woken up
Out the door
A rattle, a rattle, a rattle
Left his paper behind
My finger nails get longer
My beard needs a trim


© 2007 David Greg Harth
07.02.09.16:11:24@205HudsonNYC