True To Himself

It was not Pictures at an Exhibition
but rather used-book browsing
and there he was, an old
familiar face locked into
memory, with old being the
operative designation here,
recognition recalling his name,
tentatively piped by an
uncertain enquiry and yes, the
pale reflection of the man once
known, starting at the query,
recognition reciprocated.
Physical presentation wan and
dessicated but the voice
expressing the mind mired in
youth not so; quips and cracks,
pithy observations and impish wit
poured forth, reassuringly
corroborating that while the parts
do age, the basic element remains.