Age had cost the old man
Most of his sight,
More than half his hearing
and
Much of his memory,
But he could recall
A summer morning
When the crows
Squawked their claim
To the telephone wires
And a yellow sun rose
Through low clouds
That magically turned it red.
He told his son
That was the day
He waited at the train
station,
Bouquet in hand, but
She did not arrive. Undeterred,
He waited hours for
The next train.
“I’d have given my right
arm to see her
Get off that train,
But she didn’t come, nor
call.
Who needs sight or hearing
or memory
After such a day?”
His son put his hand
On the old man’s arm,
Squeezed it and said
Without even a hint of recrimination,
“But Dad, Mom did get off
that second train.
You married her
And lived together
For 50 years.
You just don’t
Remember.”
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