To the Old Man

Maybe the eighty-fifth day you will be lucky
When you set out to see
If your old body remembers what it used to be
Maybe three days of struggling will bring “your brother” in
And the journey back won’t devour him

Maybe you won’t have to carry your cross
And tourists will see
That the bones were once considered family
Maybe the boy will wake you to hear where you have been
And one day relay the story you told him

One day I will give you a reason to boast
So dream, my friend, of the African coast

Here's to you
To the Old Man
Who never thought your bad luck would be
What finally brings home a prize in 1953