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Like a flower that has to be fed with water, tended with love and care for one to bloom before death ends.
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Saturday, January 3, 2009, 3:33:00 PM
12:35 AM
a man,as old as he can be. he was a strong old man.
walking around smartly,
in his casual pants and grey polo tee. his black shoes were cleanly polished, as light was reflected from it.
oblivious to his surroundings.
he came to do what he might have been doing every morning at that time.
what he does best perhaps.
for only with that he might rely on for survival. despite the posh look i see.
i wonder what his family as in store for him?
rich or poor, i dont know.
what could make an old man do such a thing.
money.
but why?
i wouldn't let my father be in such state. never. a promise i would make.
choosing carefully and picking the best of what he has.
he dumps it to his treasure box. filled with all of the same things that he has found.
once he is done finding what he needed. he packed and left.
left for yet another bin on the roadsides.
picking empty cans that brings treasure to him.
that was why i called his ice box that he pulled around his treasure box.
and i was just there in the car, for my father was waiting fer the traffic to turn green.
i watch him in awe.
for he was an old man, determined as can be.