The old man lives all day by the window,
as if there is nothing left but to stare all day.
And when he noticed the movement of the wind,
he would smile as if he has understood something.
There is something about the way he keeps his face,
most times he behaves like he can hear your thoughts.
And when you want to speak falsely, when you see him
you’ll almost assume he can read your mind.
That knowing smile that seems so carefully placed.
He would look as if he has heard from the gods.
And that humans can speak without talking.
He looks as if transfixed in another realm.
There was a certain night, the old man,
while sitting by his window, stood up like he saw something.
I heard him talk to the wind, I could hear the wind.
But I’m sure I only heard it whisper. But he spoke.
He continued that night while everyone slept.
I listened for a while before I too slept off.
In the morning before breakfast he was found sitting dead.
And I wonder if the winds took him or he actually knew he would die.