Every old man I
Reminds me of my
When he had fallen in love with
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the
Faltering over his
In Bayswater,
London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I
In October-coloured
Seems to say to me:"I was once your father."
