A wise man

We've just spent a week with my father in law and he's a lovely man with an amazing history. He's been a monk in a previous life and is a clever wordsmith although not many people know that about him. My poetry isn't a patch on his but here's one about the day we first met...

Waterloo
There’s a man I met in the underground
He bought me a cake and we sat down
We talked at once of nothing and all
He told me his life and I poured the tea

I listened and I saw the boy in his eyes
Talking, singing and laughing
Of sadness, happiness and in between
I wondered about where he'd been

From small beginnings
To decades of travel
His eyes reliving his history
The memories so fresh in his head

While he talked of art and life
I noticed his shiny shoes
And fiddled with the flowers on the table
As I wondered about where he’d been

The sage has lived and loved
A cat of nine lives
Each wave bringing new change
Washing new life over him

From the green hills of Ireland
Back home to London town
Quietly confident
His eyes do his smiling

These days he sits by moonlight
While the rest of the world slumbers
Shaping his words into prose
His years his bible, a mantra

And who could forget that wise face
Put pen to the gifts he knows
His face telling a thousand stories
Like sunlight on the ocean

Entranced, I listened on
He glanced at his watch and stood up
Until the next time he said
And I watched as his hat disappeared onto the train