The Old Man The Society August 19, 2012 Poetry A hunchbacked man, at least a hundred years old Hobbles by as I wait for the train, I brace for the inevitable sharp pain, When his grotesque odor will soon take hold, But, to my surprise, instead, the proud bold Smell of a rich cologne reaches my brain And I am left feeling dumb to complain About something that never did unfold. Now, he passes me almost every day; I get the feeling he’s more rock than man, A symbol of how time’s long river can Sculpt the hardest earth on its endless way. The train arrives and I am left to think: When I’m that old, shall I be rock or stink? -Evan Mantyk Bio: Evan Mantyk is a newspaper editor, writer, and poet living in Harrison, New York. He is president of the Society of Classical Poets. Related Post ‘Hand in Hand’ by Nicholas Froumis She remembers the first time his hand closed around her fingers, the smooth skin of youth and a slight dampness like when he proposed. He... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.