An Old Man

To his secluded nook he remains confined
Pressing his rosary bead after bead,
Chanting psalms for Him Whose Name is Glorified
And his Messenger the holder of the creed.
His face is all wrinkles and his body all through.
Each wrinkle tells the story of a painful and toilsome life.
Palsy shakes his frail body and his grey hair,
And lethe retards his perplexed brain.
Little lads and lasses we were when squatting around him
He told us wonderful stories of a bygone time.
"Glamourous was mine time ,lads, while thine is dim.
And cheerful were mine men with noble hearts
That were never grim."

Mohamed Chhilif