Jewel

                  An old man

                  With curled moustache  

                  And peaked cap ,   

                  Pushed his bicycle
                  Up the hill, ecstatically -
                  Singing an old Sufi song, 

                  Or- a Levantine lay -

                  Of lost- unrequited love .

                  His brine blue eyes

                 Turned inwards -

                  Yet he waved to me

                  Smilingly ,

                  Like an old sea salt,

                  Or Parisian poet,

                  Acknowledging a brother . 

                  Poems are found

                  In bright jewels

                  Such as this -

                  Illuminate ones day !