The Old Man
Standing by her grave,his sadness overwhelms and the old man hangs his head. Alone now, he cries silently in his heart, a heart overflowing with memories of long ago yesterdays loving her under starlit skies.
Glimpses of moonlight swirl the whirlwind sands of time, forgotten moments and dreams in colored splendor dance through moonlight upon the beat of silent music, under the man in the moon’s baleful eye.
His sadness is no more, glorious remembrance filling his soul as he gazes upon soft creamy clouds, golden delightful daydreams of loving her amidst golden rays of sunshine under periwinkle skies on bygone days.
He remembers part of her favorite poem by Wordsworth “Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour, Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind...”
She gave him a glorious lifetime of dreams that came true with silent spoken words whispered during tiny blooms of kisses in the shaded blue of midnight mists. He softly whispers, Thank you, Wife.
Maggie E. Estes
February 27, 2010