Anthology

The Old Man

Mathew Swanner

 

His teeth rotted in his gums
His eyes spoke of times past
His hands ran through memories of hair
A smile parted his lips.
His breath stung my nose
as a great laugh bellowed.
But,
I could not see what he saw
I could not follow where he went
My hair still lingered here
No smile parted my lips.
But the old man's terrible,
sweet breath remains.