Alison Cassidy - Johnny Walker

‘Mind if I join you?
The name’s Johnny Walker.’
He extended his hand.

He was tall and gaunt -
six foot something
and thin as a pretzel.

‘Visiting the wife.
Poor old thing
had a fall last week.
Mind you,
She’s pretty good for 93.’

‘Excuse me, John,
but how old are YOU? ’

‘I was Ninety last birthday.’

I couldn’t believe it.
Sure, there were a few
liver spots on his face
and his dentures
were more than obvious -
But ninety!

‘Hearing’s pretty poor
these days.
Damn nuisance.’

He spoke of jazz -
played piano
from ear.
Loved Coltraine and Bill Evans.
Rattled off a string of titles.

Then just before he left,
he mentioned
(quite casually)
the Tiger Moth he'd flown
on his 90th birthday.

‘Hadn’t been in one since the war.
Such a thrill to loop the loop again.’

He left shortly afterward.
Strode down the corridor,
hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Alison Cassidy

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/johnny-walker/