ALONE
The old man wandered into the café and sat down,
His white head bent low, his face wore a frown,
His old gnarled hands blue from the cold outside,
The sorrow in his deep blue eyes he could not hide.

A girl came with a coffee pot and a mug and poured,
She brought a menu, he saw nothing he could afford,
Both his old hands were cupped around the hot drink
He seemed to gaze into empty space trying hard to think.

I watched not wanting to disturb his train of thought,
Then for a moment he looked and his sad eyes I caught,
I sat at his lonely table and offered to buy him a meal,
And just to talk awhile maybe to try and partly heal.

He sighed as though his tired old heart would break,
Please tell me what is wrong friend, for goodness sake,
She died today, my sweet wife of more than fifty years,
I could see in those deep blue eyes many unshed tears.

I can’t go home, just to sit there alone and pine away,
But I have to go for there is nowhere else for me to stay.
We used to come together here and have a donut or two,
I may have the courage to go home when my meal is through.

He talked while he ate and love-light came to those blue eyes,
As he praised his sweet wife, who seemed to be his greatest prize.
His heart seemed to lighten as he told of each kind virtue,
Here was a love that should surely last all eternity through.

I drove him home and lit a small fire, the home felt cold,
A picture on the old mantle shelf a sweet love story told,
A smart sailor boy and a young girl as pretty as could be
In uniform, both holding a silver horseshoe, for luck you see.

Now she was gone and he was felt all alone to pine,
I’ll pray for you tonight, said I, that all will be fine,
Thank you friend, he stood and shook hands with me,
At least from pain and suffering my dear wife is now free.

The next day in the paper the deaths I looked through,
And an eighty three year old woman came into my view,
I went to the funeral just to be with the dear old man, alone,
We were the only two to say farewell to a dear wife going home.

M Ann Margetson November 19, 2001