By Diane McDonough
Cape Cod Branch, Massachusetts
She sets the table, stirs applesauce
scented with cinnamon and cloves
simmering on the stove.
No words pass between them
as he ventures upstairs,
his eighty-year-old knees raging at each rise.
He doesn’t remember how often
they’d danced in the hard heat of summer,
how after making love,
his finger had traced two hearts in her palm,
over and around her lifeline,
when the children were somewhere.
When dusk comes, he refuses dinner,
nods off in his chair.
She eats alone, sees shadows
step from behind the streetlights,
feeling their way out,
letting their eyes adjust to the night.
Remember those feelings. Your words are beautiful.
This is one I will read more than once.
life…light and dark…and brilliantly written. xo
Wow. Poignant, lyrical, expresses so much in few words. If you’re living this or witnessing it, may God be with you.
OOh Diane – how sad. A terrible reminder of how life can end.
Very eloquently, and simply put.
This poem is evocative for so many of us, I am sure, Diane. Our waning years….so much potential, so much possibility and then wham, our bodies once so strong (for most) begin to fade into the shadows. Would that they could find their way into the light with a flick of the switch. I enjoyed your poem immensely, despite the sadness.
Heartfelt and beautiful.