The Old Man and Me

He rose as I approached,
Having been seated on the velvet grey boulder,
And leant on his cane,
Which had been resting on his cold old shoulder.
Something of a smile
Was sketched upon his far-seeing eyes,
Something of a pause
Was in the green turf's unheard sighs.
Had he lost his way?
Or was it now much harder than before?
Was the sky pure blue
Calling him to tarry here no more?