Thursday, November 15, 2007

The Last Drops

Years ago, we ignored
the old men who gathered
when there was a feast
or funeral
and regaled any who would listen
with their tales of war
and little conquests
back in the mountains.

Now, when we gather,
the old men are hard to find.
Two or three
hide in the corners
and still whisper
their old tales.

Some of us who know
ignore discussions of jobs,
BMWs, games
of golf, trips
back to Thailand
or Laos
and gravitate
to the corners
to drink
the last drops
of a mountain


Anonymous said...

its arite..but true..

Burlee Vang said...

nice poem, Soul.