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!
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