Odd Magic

:”Once” the old man said. ” I had a castle.”

He did not seem the type.
No, with his ragged clothes
and dark plastic bag on the seat next to him,
with his three day beard and smear of dirt on one cheek,
he reeked
of homelessness.

“It was a beautiful thing.” he went on,
“Clean and white with towers and walls and bright flags
that rippled in the wind,
a sanctuary, pure as God
and twice as strong.”

He took a deep drought on his cigarette, and coughed.
“I had a queen too. And a God. We danced, the three of us.
There was music. I remember the music.”

He spat on the floor. He coughed again,
then looked me in the eye.
“I left one day. And never found my way home.
I still look, every day. I listen for the music.
but I never find it.”

He finished the last bite of his sandwich, and smiled,
his teeth yellow and uneven.
It was a true smile, free of guile or irony.
“I had a castle once.” he repeated,
“and lost it.
but that’s OK. The magic is in the looking.”

And he left,
a piece of him still lingering in the air
as I watched him go, .

About this poem

When I travel to cities, I am often approached by homeless people who ask for money for a meal. I rarely give money, but if my schedule allows, I ask them to have a meal with me. The few who take me up on the offer always have amazing stories.

Some of them make sense.

Tom

PS, The picture was taken in Bavaria, Germany.