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.