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 ‘I Journey On’ and Other Poetry by James A Tweed... a villanelle The sun descends into the silent sea. As shadows lengthen in the fading light I journey on to seek what yet may be. As death from l... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email.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. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.