The Long and the Short of it
A dozen or more golden-orfe,
refreshed from their winter sleep
swim, just below the surface
of his pond – mouths agog.
His grizzled, tabby cat, curled up
and dozing; tousled fur – polka dot
spotted, with petals from a plum-tree.
He’s had a full life, and a good one,
he maintains, as he sits – grey head
nodding; an April day, masquerading
as a June one.
A gentle breeze, slowly turns the pages
of his book. Doesn’t care for the long
lines of a novel; prefers instead,
or so he’ll tell you, the short truth
of a poem...
squeezes the hand of his pretty,
young nurse, as she helps him stand,
which says more than both.