The Old Man

They visit him every night Ghostly apparitions without fright For he knew each and every one Talking together until the night was done And so he sleeps through the day In fitful sleep until the sun slips away They return when the moon rides high To recount their stories of days gone by The final night came when a storm blew As thunder and lightning split the sky in two His final wish was granted then When she appeared to him at the end. © Paul Warren Poetry