Bruno

He is one i see often though not every day With his fishing rod fishing from the pier in saltwater bay The hair on his balding head is silver gray The stocky built fellow from a land far away Bruno an octogenarian from distant Milan The City he left as a very young man He retains his Italian accent though his English quite good Sufficient enough for to be understood Two years ago to cancer he lost Maria his wife Her passing has left a huge hole in his life She too did love fishing they fished side by side With their rods from the pier often at high tide They migrated to Australia from Milan six decades ago In this southern Land they raised their children and time became their foe Bruno a great grandfather lives on his own And of happier days he would surely have known A friendly old fellow free of conceit and guile He even greet strangers to him with a smile Often from the pier of saltwater bay With his rod he is fishing to pass time of day.