Featured Poem

Sir Incognito

The tap of your stick 

alerts me. You swivel right,

walking with purpose.

*

Dark glasses disguise,

calf-length boots and winter coat.

Protective armour.

*

You look up to find

 me, waiting at the window.

We wave, smile and nod.

*

Who and what are you,

my new old friend of five weeks? 

You spell out eighty.

*

I mime disbelief.

The years have not compressed you,

your calm dignity.

*

Sir Incognito,

I salute you as I rise

from my writing desk.

*

We both will survive

on unexpected greetings

filling the absence.

*

While my hair grows grey

uncut, you pace the weeks, months.

We both mark time’s tread.