A Conversation with an Altruist, poem by Robert W Kovacs at Spillwords.com

A Conversation with an Altruist

A Conversation with an Altruist

written by: Robert W Kovacs

 

In the midst of living a busy life,
Today, I noticed a new face moved in.
Being neighborly, I chose to meet him,
I rehearsed how I’d introduce myself.

I practiced my approach a couple times,
Before deciding to walk on over.
With only a tad bit of nervousness,
I climbed the few stairs and knocked on his door.

He answered the door, I looked right at him,
I saw an amiable neighbor’s joy.
He eagerly, invited me inside,
I entered feeling oddly comfortable,

Offering the usual, coffee or tea,
I politely accepted, a cup of tea.
He offered a seat at the kitchen table,
I took the chair closest to the window.

With the sun’s warmth and light welcoming me,
Reciprocatively, we shared stories.
From where I sat, I could see a mirror,
Hung intentionally with care by the door,

He chatted while he prepared the tea,
I watched his body language speak to me.
I listened and kept watching carefully,
Hoping to not be noticed by my stare.

I watched his gestures dance to life’s music,
His facial expressions sang to the same songs.
As he brought our teas over and sat down,
Suddenly, his gentle demeanor changed.

Almost instantly, before my own eyes,
He transformed into a rigid old man.
I heard a wise and sharp-tongued older man,
Reflect with detail, highlights of his life.

Time seemed to escape, as we sat and talked,
I didn’t want to stay beyond my welcome.
I felt it was my time to get going,
Just like that, all at once, the day was done.

Making sure I left him on friendly terms,
I thanked him for his time and cup of tea.
I reassured him, we’ll, do it again,
Yet, his simple smile, kept on chatting.

I stood up and gently pushed my chair in,
Then walked over to admire the mirror.
Before I left, I briefly stared in it,
I thought I saw the old man staring back,

I heard the old man’s voice whisper something,
Not quite sure what he was trying to say.
With tears in both his eyes, I departed,
I hoped it wasn’t my first and last visit.

Fumbling for my keys, I unlocked the door,
Walked in, took my favorite seat and found peace.
I thought I heard the old man living next door,
Laugh loudly at something I must have said.

Perhaps, it may have been something I did,
It was then, I grasped, why the old man laughed.
Finally, he confessed, that my visit,
Turned out not to be a dream while I slept.

A sense of familiarity hit,
When I understood his last words to me.
Saying he was my guardian angel,
Sent by my heavenly loved ones my way.

A mastery of his goals must be met,
For him, to earn the coveted golden wings.
Without telling me, he replayed my life,
Over a cup of tea, with the old man.

He asked me for a few words describing me,
Without hesitation, I answered him.
I responded quick and confidently,
With the very ones I’ve heard since birth.

Throwing in a notorious curved pitch,
He watched my interaction and direction.
Attentively, he pushed to the limits,
Testing, if the rigid old man will crack.

The day’s conversation with the old man,
Left me questioning God and my own faith.
Time seemed to be suspended and stood still,
Until I realized, I was the old man.

Showing the legacy, I’ve left thus far,
I stood proud and tall, looking for tomorrow.
Allowing my life’s story to be shared,
Through the very eyes of my younger self.

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