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I would love to hear from you. Please contact me at: adamdfisher@optonline.net |
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Alone Now After
the funeral, this man, white
hair wisping around his
ears, looks up with cloudy brown
eyes from under tangled brows,
“After 67 years,” he
says hoarsely, “I can’t live without
her.” They had a home in
to
a new “home,” near
his son. He
walks though strange doors,
imagining the gray glass
is barbed wire, the
staff are guards, his
room a cell, the
people, inmates which look at
him and he is afraid. The
staff leaves him to
settle in. They mean well.
They’ll do their job, leave.
His son carries his
small suitcase, a radio, a
clock to tick out time,
three large print
books, yesterday’s newspaper. |