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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The old man sat quietly. He was pensively weighing his actions and the balance of right and wrong in his life. Finally realizing there were better things to do he simply told God he was willing for Him to take care of consequence in due time. It was June, though it seemed unduly cold for the time of year. His old chair squeaked as he strained a couple of rocks, to and fro, and he thought, “My gosh the critters are noisy tonight.” Not that he thought the squeak was from the bugs, because he knew better. It was simply a noisy evening. He smiled as he thought about how much pleasure he had given old man Taylor because he and his buddy Jason had stole two watermelons from old man Taylor’s small garden. Old man Taylor must have told that tale half a million times or more to anyone he was around more than fifteen minutes. Funny thing though, he could remember when it only took about 30 seconds to tell, but now was like ten minutes. ‘Where's my sweater” he thought as the night chill sent a shiver across those boney old shoulders. A toothless grin showed he didn’t like wearing those store bought pearlies when he was alone. “ Dad gum!! What was I just thinking about. Oh! my sweater!” He wouldn’t have remembered but he was still cold. That seemed to be the biggest waste of growing old. He had to relive every thought three or four times before he could let it go. He just seemed to think he would never bring it back again. Truth is he was right. He laid his head down on his pillow shortly thereafter. He took a last drag off a worn out cigarette and ground it out in the ashtray beside the bed. “Only time he smoked,” he told the Doc, and it was the truth. Oh, eons back he had the habit bad, but good sense took hold of the better half of him and prevailed in the fight to give them up. And it was a fight after smoking some thirty odd years. It was the only good thing what came out of his daddy’s death some forty years earlier. That was the last thought he ever had as his head snuggled down into the clean pillowcase, a smile upon his lips. evening mist curls slowly up the rugged path pondering life journey
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