I was sitting in a bar
A voice says, “excuse me,” – my chair is bumped
A walker; a little old lady attempts to make her way by
Silver hair, moving slowly but with a smile
I smile and move; others turn and look; stare
Are they thinking of their own mortality

Is it an inconvenience – the elderly among us
Soon her husband comes by – his hand on his daughter’s shoulder (maybe)
He was frail but alive; not like most husbands at that age
Just a moment in a bar