Tuesday, November 10, 2015

834 - Perceptions



Perceptions

He was old.  
Weathered.
With grey, curly hair.
And white stubble
That contrasted sharply
With his dark skin.
Sporting a blue polo shirt,
Shorts and sandals,
He was crossing the plaza.
Hard to guess his age,
It often is,
But he looked fit and healthy.
Our paths were about to cross:
“Good morning” I offered.
“Gidday, old fella!” he responded.

Oh.
 .
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© J Cosmo Newbery 2015
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14 comments:

  1. Nicely done! Enjoyed this!

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  2. LOL. How utterly deflating! I LOVE this poem!!!!!!

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  3. Hank sees it not so much perceptions but accepting everyone as equals. It relays a friendly and acceding self that breaks the ice easily!

    Hank

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  4. Well, there you go! You might have to look more closely next time you come across a mirror! I never recognise the stranger who lives in my mirror!! I never gave her my permission to set up her camp in there!!

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    Replies
    1. Welcome back, by the way! :)

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