I met an old man on a sunburned bench
wearing a coat though the weather was hot,
body bent like a weather-tortured tree
with watery blue eyes the colour
of the Arabian Sea.
He told me that his age was ninety-four
so born years before the Second World War
and informed me he was raised by Guildford Crescent Baths
where I swam many decades ago,
oh, no one swims there any more.
I listened to tales about old Cardiff town,
a history book in human form
but then his carer helped him to his feet
and someone else sat on the sunburned seat.
wearing a coat though the weather was hot,
body bent like a weather-tortured tree
with watery blue eyes the colour
of the Arabian Sea.
He told me that his age was ninety-four
so born years before the Second World War
and informed me he was raised by Guildford Crescent Baths
where I swam many decades ago,
oh, no one swims there any more.
I listened to tales about old Cardiff town,
a history book in human form
but then his carer helped him to his feet
and someone else sat on the sunburned seat.
