He’s older now – and frailer, his footsteps not so sure,
He lingers for a moment – outside the shut front door,
The house, his home of fifty years or more,
No longer his.
.
He hopes
It’s for the best,
He’s moving closer.
.
Reluctantly he takes the arm of one who’s standing near,
His failing health and frequent falls her ever present fear,
What if, with none his cries for help to hear,
He lay alone?
.
She feels
It’s for the best,
He’s moving closer.
.
The years have all too quickly passed, the months, the years, the days,
Her memories forever strong, his fading in the haze,
It won’t be long the parting of the ways,
They know too well.
.
Slipping away,
It’s for the best,
He’s moving closer.
Some musings 
Leave a Reply