A Man and the Wife of His Youth
The old man
Scratched his head
How could things have gotten this far?
As she lies so pale and lifeless in the bed
His wife of many years
Once a flower, fair
Her frail hand held so still, in his
And on his face, a single tear
Time is drawing them
To a place where one will go
And when he lays his body down
This place, then both will know.
For now, he dreams of yesteryear
And sees a dreamy glow
Upon her bent and snow white head
As he remembers
that they did know.