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The rocking Chair

Forlorn as a withering rose, The years in every wrinkle etched. A crippling frame, head to toes, Ramshackle porch to match. An old man, rocks back and forth, Staring steadfastly into the eve, His ailing years of little worth, The sublime sunset a mere reprieve. Contemplating a life well worn, Exuberant youth a distant past. His aches forged through duties sworn, A life succinctly fading fast. Resigned, fulfilled with aching heart, A partner lost this past ten year. Far too many years apart, Engrained in each and every tear. The sun cascades on wind torn porch A silence echoing the fact, That embers of his dying torch Will fulfil a reuniting pact.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 10/29/2019 8:28:00 PM
A truly touching write, my friend. Love the phrasing: 'The years in every wrinkle etched.' … 'His aches forged through duties sworn.' … Lovely penned. Warmest wishes, Gershon
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