he sat alone in the cold mornings quietyet to be troubledwith the trials of the day.
his face, as worn as the ripples on a lakehe sat while life taxied the lake before him
perhaps he sat in reflection of a life that did not spare himfrom its trials
it seems he still had yet to make peace with this world as he warmed the cold bench alone
-I was drawn to his complacency-
his gaze fixed upon the young in hurried laughter and in the blessed ignorance of youth as he watched and smiled.
-I was drawn to his joy- young lovers eagerly occupied the bench nearest his wooed in fervor'd caresses a benefit only to them his gaze, now rendered despondent
-I was drawn to his heartache-
he now fixed upon a man who scolded children whom played too close to the lake
tutored well, the old man solemnly nodded in approval. -I was drawn to his regret-he sat alone, in reverie while the bench nearest his replaced the lovers in fervor,now warned passive as two aged lovers held hand in hand.
the lake fell silentthe air--still a lonely mistress fed eager pigeons
he raised his hand to shield tears that seemingly startled his view
he fumbled with his neckerchief to rescue the felled tears -I was drawn to his sadness-
the old man, trodden'd with memories of his years in ignorance of youth and love--of loss and regret, accompanied him as he sat alone.
I wondered of all this now when I learned today of his departure from this world.
maybe then, he had no one left to sit with him.
I too, sit alonein the cold morning's quiet
I sit, where he sat.having only to mind my tea my mug--still steaming warmed my hands.
I wondered if he would have also enjoyed a cup.