Old Man

He's waiting for the midday wind



And waves spread out so dull and slack



And with a hand fan every day



The old man smooths the water back



I cast a stone in just for fun



The water rings moved on the plane



So sadly stood the old man by



And swept the water flat again



In white sand the old man sat



Trembling as he smoked his pipe



Just the water and I know that



The fan is of a special type



Awareness sleeps volcano dreams



Reluctant I asked him why



His head hung low as if he slept



And then he said before he died



The water will be your only mirror



First when it's like glass can you see



How many fairytales you have left



For your deliverance you will plead



The fan was pressed to his breast



Just as death's grip seized up his hand



His fingers must have been so tight



The fan remained back in the sand



I call the old man every day



Should he come and deliver me



I stay here with the midday wind



And in the fan it is plain to read



The water will be your only mirror



First when it's like glass can you see



How many fairytales you'll have left



For your deliverance you will plead