Where is that old man who used to sit
Over there, at the table near the window,
Frank as his posture,
Oblivious to his loneliness,
In front of a cup of coffee,
Plunged into eternal conversation with you?

With the smile of an ancient statue,
Though statues do not move from the spot,
He got up and departed,
Conscious like the wear and tear of time.

... conscious like fading light.

(1989)