OLDER and YOUNGER

I was at Costco
Just the other day
Went to the food court
And got a tray
 
Got my fries
And found a seat
Just sat down
Was about to eat
 
When this little old man
Came shuffling by
He’d shuffle a bit
Then give a sigh
 
Shuffle some more
Then look around
Like he was hiding
Something he’d found
 
His big, sparkly eyes
Would shift back and fro
As if unsure
Where he had to go
 
Shiny and bald
Was the top of his head
And it leaned down
As if heavy, like lead
 
His shoulders and back
Were bent over as well
His pants were too big
It was easy to tell
 
As he passed by each light
His head, would glow
And the hairs by his ear
Became white, like snow
 
One hand held the other
In front of his waist
And sometimes he’d rub them
Like he was, in haste
 
He’d shift his eyes quickly
And keep shuffling along
Then quickly look down
Like he’d done something wrong
 
He shuffled up
To an empty table
But didn’t sit down
He wasn’t able
 
Put his hands on the top
To hold himself up
And looked all around
Like a poor, lost, pup
 
He stood there and waited
Didn’t make a move
His eyes always shifting
As if, in a groove
 
His lower lip quivered
As his eyes, tried to find
Something he’d forgotten
Or just left behind
 
And then he perked up
As a young man came close
He lifted his hand
And tapped on his nose
 
Just like a little puppy
He seemed so excited
His face seemed aglow
He was delighted
 
The young man brought chicken
With fries, on the side
Set them down on the table
And then turned wide
 
With a wave of his hand
Showed the old man to sit
While he walked away
Something to get
 
With his eyes twinkling
The old man sat down
But didn’t touch the food
Just,  looked all around
 
The young man came back
With napkins in hand
The old man then smiled
It seemed just grand
 
He gazed at the young man
Then back to the food
But didn’t touch it, as if
Unsure he could
 
The young man gestured
For the old man to eat
The old man was tickled
It seemed quite the treat
 
He rubbed his hands together
And quickly reached out
But then couldn’t pick
Like he was in doubt
 
He looked at the food
Then back at the man
As if he was saying
Are you sure, that I can
 
So the young man reached over
A piece of chicken he picked
Showed it to the old man
And then he dipped
 
He took a big bite
And motioned to the old man
Nodded his head
As if saying, yes you can
 
The old man took some chicken
And then slowly dipped
Checking each time
So it wouldn’t drip
 
Such tiny bites
So carefully chewed
Always looking around
As not to be rude
 
He wiped his lips with a napkin
After each piece he ate
His eyes always dancing
As if he was late
 
He smiled at the young man
And nodded his head
I couldn’t hear them talking
So know not, what was said
 
Once they were done
As much, as he was able
He used his napkin
To clean off the table
 
Then he looked up
With such grateful eyes
It seemed as though
He’d won a big prize
 
The old man shuffled over
Gave the young man a hug
Then let him go
And gave a big shrug
 
The young man put his arm
On the old man’s shoulder
It was the younger
Holding the older
 
As they both
Shuffled their way out
I thought to myself
What was this, all about
 
An old man and his son?
Spending some time
Having something to eat
On the young man’s dime
 
And that’s how it was
How life, had progressed
Now the younger, helped the older
And who would have guessed
 
Once, the younger was childish
But the older, helped him mature
Now the older, seemed childish
Needed the younger, for sure
 
Just a few years before
It seems, somehow perverse
The older, helped the younger
And not, the reverse
DISCLAIMER – Any seniors portrayed, are all fictitious
                      Any resemblance, is purely malicious
                      And for old people, living or dead
                      It’s plainly apparent, as I have said
 
                      The author took liberties, with the chronology
                      But for this, there is no apology
                      This story is based, purely on fact
                      Because it’s how, old people act
 
                      No elders were hurt, in its making
                      Most of them, were already aching
                      As for the oldie portrayed, we didn’t know em
                      At least in the case, of this here boem              
BOEMS by JA 92