I often wonder what he thinks
Of this early morning chameleon clattering by?
Elderly worn face
Peering down in curious frailty
At the young and ageless below.
Those eyes that observe
Permeate my skin
Are questioning and haunting
Perhaps he dreams in nostalgic waves
Puffing on that sweet scented pipe
Desperate to know the young woman
Under the neon pink novelty umbrella
Who is too afraid to wave
In case he never returns
And upsets the daily routine