The Old Man

By Jeri Thompson

He laughs at my jokes,
makes eye contact
then follows my train of thought
to unknown country
happy for the trip.
He is thankful for what I give
like a gift in July
and doesn’t seem to notice stretched skin
or too many banked calories.
He says yes
to what comes his way
grasping, clutching, clawing
up the mountain
still
a conquistador
exploring new territories.

Previously published on Carnival Lit Mag.