Sat across from me was me.
Like a mirror into what might be
Auburn still clinging to lips amongst life’s winter’s silver
Jacket fastened by two not three

The cuff of his floral sleeve peaked
Style in age genuine in subtlty
His weathered hands gently held his music like mine would
In-ear speakers bringing peace

Smile lines on eyes predicted
What character his heart lifted
The neutral frown was deceptive as we both knew
Even a small grin shifted

Would my future be this
Seasoned and wisdom kissed
It would be prideful to claim such a boast
Yet not so to wish it