The Old Man

The old man
sat at the next table
hunched over
tattered John Deere cap
pulled down low
over his eyes

what is his story
I wondered
his tan hands
showed signs of wear
his posture appeared
slightly defeated

did he love once
only to lose her
after years of illness?
does he have children
that gather at Christmas
or do they simply
send pictures
once a year

he ate slowly
with no care for time
an occassional glance
in our direction
a slight smile
a friendly nod

for some reason
I want to know his story
his favorite memories
tales of love and loss
for his warm eyes
betray his cold exterior
they beg for conversation

I consider saying "hello"
but alas, our food arrives
a moment later
I glance over to the next table
and the old man is gone...