He slept on his recliner while reading the newspaper. He dreamt he was in one of those battles he fought and the enemy bullets blinded him. He woke up with a jolt only to see a blue nothingness in front of him. Frightened, he took off his glasses.
They were painted blue. Joys of visiting grandchildren!
They listened to all that she said. They wouldn’t judge or offer solutions, they accepted her for what she was. At 80 when the whole world had deserted her, they were her true friends, the flowers in her garden.
And when she left the world, she went home, to them, the earth they stood on.
A small room, gloomy and dark,
A window overlooking a park.
He sat in silence, looking outside,
Kids playing seek and hide.
There were pictures hung on the wall,
Of smiles and joys, spring and fall.
Of his graduation, his wedding,
Of his first born and her sibling.
Of holding trophies of games won,
Of beers enjoyed under the sun.
Of dinners and romantic evenings,
Of adventures and sky diving.
Now as he sat sipping tea
Wrinkled skin at eighty three.
Alone, awaiting his turn to leave,
His only possession that none could thieve,
Was a room hung with pictures,
A timeline of emotions’ mixtures,
A testament of life’s battles bravely fought,
A room of memories, a room of thoughts…
Words World 