The Web Poetry Corner - James Bredin - The Old Guy Watching Me
The Old Guy Watching Me
It was just a glance from someone very tall,
He, like me, meandering through the mall,
Didnít know him, though he looked like someone I knew,
So I walked on, thinking this through and through.
He was old with a beard as white as it could be,
Then I suddenly realized that he was me,
Looking back from a mirror in a display,
Harsh reality difficult to convey,
Something must have happened somewhere along the way,
When did all of my hair turn so white and so gray?
Where did I get that huge white walrus moustache?
Why did time speed up and go by in a flash?
Iím still young and the year is nineteen fifty four,
Milking cows, bailing hay with a world to explore,
Flooding Hurricane Hazel keeps us in suspense,
And a dollar is a dollar, -- not sixty cents.
Almost all girls are gorgeous and look back at me,
And kisses sometimes stolen under the tulip tree,
And most palaces and places I have never seen,
And I am young and lean in jeans and new to the scene.
Iím not too pleased Ďbout this old guy looking at me,
I miss the excitement and the way things used to be,
Though burning CDs and downloading music is good,
But Iíd like to do it all again and again if I could.