NaPoWriMo 2019, Day 2

The prompt today is to write a poem that resists closure by ending on a question.  This doesn't actually have a question as the final line (or any line), but does raise a question, I think.

Old Man

An old man sits

in the park

on a day so blurred

one might not know

if it was morning

or evening.

The wind

ripples puddles,

blows

so comfortably cool

one might not know

if it was spring

or fall.

He takes a handkerchief

from his pocket,

lightly dabs his face.

I can't tell if he's

wiping away rain

or tears. - Jeff Barnes