the stew

his face
pink as a balloon
in may
surrounded
by a yellowing
white
beard,
he stirs
the stew of
his life
and tells another
story
letting the broth
rise, a carrot
of memory
surfacing,
the soft potatoes
rolling
against
the pot. his
children,
his first,
and second wife,
the meat of youth,
all seasoned
with a dose
of pepper
and salt.
and as he speaks
he stirs,
closing his
eyes, inhaling
the steam
of the stew
that was
his life.