walking slowly with
a stick for confidence he
stops often and rests
he wears the same clothes
but now they hang loosely and
only his hat fits
I see him most days
I say hello and smile and
he admires the cat
he used to be a
dapper chap who swung along
the street with quick strides
illness made him slow,
red-eyed and careful; a new
version of himself
Isobel (and Cat)'s Blog 
Poignant, Isobel. Esp haiku #2. ‘only his hat fits’
One of the things about living in the same place for a long time, is that as you notice those you remember being fit and well age and grow frail, you realise you must be growing older too.
This man has aged so much so suddenly. I usually see him either on his way to the shops or heading home again.
Well observed, Isobel.
I can imagine his frustration and dogged determination
Yes, his progress is painfully slow. I get the feeling he’s really pleased when I drift by with my hellos, or when he sees me waiting for Cat from the end of the street and is passed us before Cat makes it inside. Even the way he turns his head seems slow and deliberate.
How powerful and vivid are your Post Stroke Haikus : “only his hat fits”, crude, bare.