The fiery yellow sun
beats down on my face.
The sweat trickles offme,
like dewdrops
falling
to
the
ground.
I can'tstand the heat
but I guess he can.
I watch him as he calmly
inhales on his cigar,
the curling smoke
runs about my facemaking me blind.
It covers me like a blue velvet blanket
pulled upin fear of the dark.
He talks about the days of old
when moralsand values were true,
about the days of loneliness
the days ofWWII.
I can see in his eyes
the tensions and fears
while hechurns his words.
I say nothing to the old man,
for I know hisintentions are sincere.
In the fiery yellow sun I sit,
sweattrickles off
like dewdrops
falling
to
the