Feel the old man.One last time he tracks back the story of his life.Memories it was named , in maroon it was covered…


There he sat on the creaking old chair,

the wood being younger to the man who comforted there.

There used to be two of these,

now only one,

the other now being a host to none.

With fidgeting hands, he put on his glasses,

maybe for a final look at the journey they embarked,

him being a lone traveller for the last 10 years,

the 10, that took ages to pass.

Memories it was named,

in maroon, it was covered,

Albert and Molly, the names that were silvered.

From the first prom to marriage and from there to their 25th,

he saw it all,

slowly and steadily the wise old guy began to live it all.

With every page flipped, his heart rate sank,

and his eyelids began to shutter slower than they ever did.

The last 11*14, with 18/05/1975, recorded on it,

reflected better than ever and moved out a bit.

He recalled her say”Don’t cry after I leave”

so he wiped off his eye as a promise to keep.

He looked towards the heavens and coaxed out a smile,

as he imagined her say,

“My dear old man, you look better this way”.


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