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“The old men come to see me.

And they are wary.

As men usually are.

 

They will submit to my touch.

And can’t imagine that the

hand of another man could ever

help much, or for long.

 

I wait, imagining myself pliable.

And when the sad burden of

their life rises to the surface,

that is what I finally palpate.

 

They begin to move me with

their unrequited longing to rest

in a place no one has encouraged them to go.

And I simply follow them there.

 

“I’m doing better.” They say,

“You’ve done a good job.”

 

Like a key in a lock, their

words open my heart.

And I know I can never

get enough of this.

 

The old men come to see me

And for that, I will always

remain here.

 

The Old Men Come to See Me by Barrett L. Dorko

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