Poetry of Issue #7        Page 49

His eyes shine like the surface of the sea
On a clear morning
When the sun illuminates the peaceful water
And makes every shade glow with gold

His hair is white
And looks even whiter after the tan skin
That comes from restless walks with the purpose of survival
As the birds seek for fruits, berries, seeds

He is sitting on a bench a bit distant from the people
From the kids in the playground, from local musicians playing drums
His yellow shirt has lost its brightness
The lonely man is smiling all the time

He is carrying some packages
He opens a plastic bag and calls his friends: sss, sss
He throws his heart up in the air. It expands in million particles
A rain of bread and peanuts covers the grey path hiding the dirt

The man is not lonely
The magic creatures of the park,
The squirrels, the doves, the cats
Have come closer and closer

They look at him
As if asking for more grain
They eat gracefully in his hands and gather around him
Circle of Hope, Togetherness

A gift of affection is floating among the branches and the cement
The sparkle of ingenuity unfolds
The tender expression in his lips, generous for the company
For the sharing, for the full conversation without words

The man stands up. He marches slowly
He turns his ashen head to glance at his peculiar community
He keeps smiling. Halo of content
The man finally leaves: he is back again in the realm of childhood