Remember
“I can’t remember you, but you are pretty,” said the old man
Tears formed in the eyes of the woman
"Who are you?"
His voice was the grayest of blues
"Are you my new doctor? Or perhaps a nurse?"
Silently, the woman took something out from her purse
The photo was a wedding shot of a young pair
His smile was dimpled and wide, and she had curly hair
The woman handed the photo to the old man
Setting it on his shaky hand
He stared at it long and hard, trying to remember
He looked at the date in the back—the 13th of December
He looked at the woman in sudden surprise
“Marianne!” He cried with joy. “Of course, my wife!”
She left the room without another word
That was the name of his first wife—and she was merely the third
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012
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