The Man Who Helped the Old Professor

And the sun came up, like any other day
The man continued his journey to the capital
It was the sixth day

On the way, in a big city's park
On a rusted, decorated bench
With a sag in the middle
Sat a gray haired big man
Tossing feed seeds to the gathering birds
Under the tree with holey shade

Closer the man went to the professor
With calm gentle thoughts
The man heard the old professor preaching to the birds
All about the sky

The stars
The constellations
The black holes and his revelations
And the lights in the too bright night

So the man sat down on an adjoining reddish black bench
And listened to the knowing words the old professor had to say
The old professor talked with a loud deep voice
Sonorous not by choice

About the sun and the moon
The theories of the "big bang boom!"
And how on the bench he sat, there was a lot more room
Than anybody ever assumed

The man thought it a pity that the old professors words
Were only heard by a bunch of city birds
And so the man wandered off into the crowded streets

Asking and gathering all the kinds of people
To listen the old professor babble
For his words were as good as the gold in a wine

Only five out of the many came and stood
And the old professor didn't even give them a look
But as time went by
The crowd grew and grew
Everywhere people tried
To be closer to the old professor

And satisfied that the old professor finally fastened on a fickle grin
The man left his spot–
Quickly taken–
And the man kept walking to the capital
Leaving the old professor with listeners in piles
All the day, he only went eight full miles