gratitude

Gratitude He is not here today, the mantle he wrapped around his bony shoulders, when there was a chill in the air is carelessly flung on the sofa A zephyr whispers, he will not return Will I be that old? I ask the fading sun I sit on the balcony, a blanket covers my shoulders against the cold afternoon chill Here in the vale where I was born and where my parents lived I wait for the September rain and remember I've had an easy life