His hands trace every fold, wrinkle and crease remembering what was. Yet his dim eyes remember and smile at the wife of his youth is still there as she takes his hand and guides him along bustling sidewalks and across the busy streets.
Grays, Blues, and Greens now blurs. A well placed tap on his Bowler Hat. Extend my white cane. My arm in hers. And off we go into the future.
8 thoughts on “His Eyes”
Beautiful poem, it is sad as we age and body starts to fail but the love still shines.
Thanks. Yes. A fact of life.
love this that love is ageless, timeless 🙂
Thanks. I love to observe older couples and I think about my parents who were married for 40 years.
Awesome piece 💗
Thanks. I observe elderly couples. That interaction between them is priceless.
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