Soul Mates

He walks as fast as his                              
Bad leg and dodgy hip                              
Allow. His heart aches                              
With longing for his love.
                   
The bench comes into sight                              
And he sighs with relief;                              
After these many years                              
It is still here, waiting.                                        

Hands, covered in creases,                              
Touch the wood, feeling the                              
Smoothness from where thousands                    
Have sat to see the view.                    

Shaking, using his cane,                              
He slowly takes a seat;                              
Leaning back wearily,                                        
Long fingers interlaced.                              

Sad, shadowed eyes stare out                              
Across the lake, searching                              
The mist for memories,                              
Trying to settle ghosts.                              

'It was here my darling,'                              
He murmurs, 'when I knew                              
That you were my soul mate.                              
We sat here hand in hand.'                              

Glistening eyes study                                        
The surface of the bench.                              
There it is! Initials                                        
Etched within a carved heart.