He sits and stares at the clock on the wall,
Every second that ticks is a memory in his life.
He’s all alone in his small empty room,
Where he waits to be with his son and wife.
He remembers the first time he met his wife,
How young and beautiful she looked.
And with a smile and a bat of her eyes,
He was instantly hooked.
He remembers the birth of their son,
How proud and excited he was.
He had fun and taught him all he could those eighteen years,
Just like a good father does.
Then their son went to fight for his country,
And was a good and honorable soldier.
When they got the news their son was killed in action,
All he could do was grab his wife and hold her.
There were plenty of happy memories to fill his life,
Only a few of them were sad.
As he turns the pages in his mind,
He’s thankful for all that he had.
Today as people talk to him,
And bring some food in,
He doesn’t respond as he stares at the clock,
And on his face is a grin.
He slowly closes his eyes as the clock strikes twelve,
The grin fades and it is his time.
Copyright © Mark Weismantel | Year Posted 2019
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.