Perhaps the shake that I saw was the palsy,
A reward for his troubles.
As I watched the old man struggle to raise the cup to his lips
The liquid sloshing about leaving muddy stains
On frayed shirt cuffs and grubby trousers.
Perhaps the shake that I saw was a resonance,
An ecstatic vibration within.
An excess of colour inset like a diamond
In a black and white world
Now unable to find a way out.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.