He wakes up very early
with a full day ahead of him.
And goes around the house,
alwalys in the way.
At last he knots his tie,
in old times so elegant.
Looking perfect
the old man leaves for the streets.
With a baguette under his arm
he visits all the bars.
"Thomas, serve some red wine,
I'm buying for everyone".
Shouting he fixes up the world
and shouting, even if too much,
lays the foundations of bullfighting,
the soccer league and folk singing.
"If the wind, I'm telling you,
blew in some other direction,
and that damned war
wouldn't end up like it did,
I woudn't even be here now,
or you. And most probably
the the tables themselves
would have to be turned over".
And sighs with the nostalgia
of those who know everything.
And a quick look at that girl,
because growing old doesn't kill desire.
Today is the 28th
and the pension comes late.
"From us old men, I'm telling you,
nobody can take away the good times we had".
With some wine in his veins
the old man leaves for his place.
She's waiting at the door.
"Look at you".
They both eat in silence.
Every now and then some words
shutter the four walls.
"Did you say something? Were you talking to me?".
So many years of hearing each other
that they don't know how to listen to each other.
"Any news from the kids?".
"The oldest one called yesterday".
They spend the evening in silence.
They don't go out after lunch.
Later they have dinner and watch some Tv
for a while and then go to bed.
If things, it's true,
went in some other direction.
If the shadow from oblivion
wouldn't eventually sweep away
memories that at this Autumn
leave the landscape orphan,
things would be quite different,
perhaps it would not be so late.
And sighs with the nostalgia
of those who know everything.
And a quick look at that girl,
because growing old doesn't kill desire.
Today is the 28th
and the pension comes late.
"From us old men, I'm telling you,
nobody can take away the good times we had".
