the elderly man sat next to me -
wrinkled like a raisin in the sun,
drowned in too-big military gear
hanging off his thin frame
like the sides of a khaki tent
pitched on rickety poles,
pinned in place by a red poppy -
had been dressed specifically
for the occasion,
promised free meal and wine,
bussed in with an array
of other elderly people
drowned in khaki tents
pinned in place by poppies.
Traveler, poet, educator, yogi, activist, artist, writer, British-Jamaican Londoner living in Ghana https://soundcloud.com/gracelouisewood