The Rocking Chair
Forlorn as a withering rose,
The years in every wrinkle etched.
A crippling frame, head to toes,
Ramshackle porch to match.
An old man, rocks back and forth,
Staring steadfastly into the eve,
His ailing years of little worth,
The sublime sunset a mere reprieve.
Contemplating a life well worn,
Exuberant youth a distant past.
His aches forged through duties sworn,
A life succinctly fading fast.
Resigned, fulfilled with aching heart,
A partner lost this past ten year.
Far too many years apart,
Engrained in each and every tear.
The sun cascades on wind torn porch
A silence echoing the fact,
That embers of his dying torch
Will fulfil a reuniting pact.
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