A Country for old Men <br /> <br />I have been into town bought a paper and drank a beer, <br />in the café where the old men sit in the afternoon shade. <br />I feel more at ease here amongst other wrinklies. <br />On the other side of the road, near the pharmacy, <br />the big clock on the wall tells us it’s five and the temp is <br />41 Celsius, but in the shade and with a breeze blowing <br />it feels fine. In a few years the big clock will tell us that <br />time is up, but others will come and take our place. <br />There is a vast pool of us in deaths ante room; we are <br />but tiny ants on a window pane so easily squashed by <br />a child’s thumb. I sit in the shed, see how cigarette smoke <br />spirals up and out before dissipating in still hot air, and <br />thought of the silent sighs I heard when a beautiful girl <br />walked past our café. We shall never possess anything <br />as lovely again.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-country-for-old-men/
