"Ancient eyes rise from tabled history" - just one of many brilliant lines in your beautiful poem etching a man's lifelong disillusion and regret.

Nap time renews, and I hope this old man finds a life and a love, even though he's not in his youth. Aloneness isn't happiness either.

What an achingly beautiful story. The detail pulls such reader interest that I couldn't not read to the end. The character development in here is like sculpture, where the tools place expression that brings the man and the girl to warm-blooded life. "Bleary eyes"....weathered tabletop, finger idly caressing a carved heart. You have the magic of the Blue Fairy, Odin, in so much of what you write. And so often your visions bring in layers of seeing...."...wrinkles like crevasses he once scaled." I think you have ten dimensional perception and awareness; and you write of it well. Every time. ~~ Diana

Too often trapped behind the glass, our fate the spectator's indifference. M.True

I envision the cloud over his head while dreaming, being able to see his past. He lived life to recognize the child and her sharing with him like minds that it's not over yet, in that brief smile.

I want to read the sequel
Teresa

Time spent in bars have wasted many a life. But then, somehow love steps in and all is not waste until the nap begins.

Poignant, simply poignant.

Ron

Brilliant!

ah so much here to think about in full realization.
budd