A free-verse poem about an elderly man living in the past. |
The elderly man lives in the past, his present dominated by his memories of those happier times when his spouse and their peers were still among the living. His conversations always dissolve into reminiscences of events he shared with his beloved, long-dead wife and his departed friends and relatives. He talks of crops planted and harvested, of memorable days spent fishing and hunting, of shopping trips into town, of movies seen and state fairs attended, and of jokes played and laughter shared. He talks of the life he once enjoyed. His thoughts dwell among the ghosts which populate his days, keeping him from feeling so isolated and so terribly alone and forgotten. He knows the pain of having outlived everyone he grew up with or ever loved. He looks not to the future or even to today. He looks backward in time, smiling at the images he replays, occupying his mind. He exists in the past when his days were busy with living and loving. He waits impatiently to be reunited with those who left him behind, knowing with them lies his future happiness in death. He waits … and he remembers. Such sweet memories! Please check out my ten books: http://www.amazon.com/Jr.-Harry-E.-Gilleland/e/B004SVLY02/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0 |