Old Man

Old Man

Old Man sat with his arms 'cross his thighs
Wizened and wrinkled, not blinking his eyes.
He stared at his candle, that one single flame
And recalled when his children remembered his name.

The flame of his candle flared, flickered and bent
When a girl from the village entered his tent.
Without moving a muscle he gave her some space.
The question she came with was etched on her face.

The candle recovered in a moment or two.
He said, You love him, but does he love you?
She shook her head, How can I know?
"Go to the marsh where the cat-tails grow.
Grind the seeds into flour and make some bread.
Gather honey, make butter to go with the bread.
Take these, eggs and berries to his front door.
Sit quietly until he ceases to snore.
Then start to sing in your sweetest voice
With joy and laughter and make him rejoice."
Is that all it takes, all that I must do?
You will know the answer if he loves you.

With a smile on her face and a friendly embrace
She left the Old Man with just a trace
Of contentment for he knew he was right,
As he turned his gaze back to the candle light.