The Best Thing About Old Men

 

Old men get sentimental.

It’s the best thing about old men.

Their eyes mist up at the slightest provocation

They grip your hand, they beam at you, abashed,

 

And in their silence is a weight of pain,

Of joy, of gratitude, of holding-on –

But nothing of fear. No whisper-trace of fear.

They’ve outlived all their terrors, and they say,

While saying nothing, “You can do this too.

You can live long enough to let all go,

Except the slow, fierce happiness you feel

At feeling anything. I’ll meet you there.”

 

Then they relax, and smiling turn away

To watch a bird scratch madly at the dust

With eyes that see, and do no more than see –

Their hands at rest, their hearts at peace at last.