old man, they called him.
Dimming light within his misty eyes.
Filled with all the tears he never cried.
How was it he had grown so quickly old...?
It seemed like only yesterday
he'd felt so brave and bold.
But now the cold was aching in his bones.
And all his loving thoughts had turned
to tomes of dried out history.
As if, as if...
If only She were there...
Sparkling, the sunlight pouring
from her eyes to theirs.
His loneliness was made of this:
that he had left her there.
Grasping for a higher rung.
Hiding from the moonlight spun
in webs of love into a tapestry.
Seeking in the mists of time.
Bearing all the pain of that great climb.
Reaching out to touch - too late, too late.
He'd waited far too long for fate
to take him higher still.
Hobbling along the path.
Wishing he could just go back
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .