Graven Images

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Upon a hilltop veiled in green,
beyond a valley, rarely seen,
an old man slumbers in his bed,
an unused pillow by his head.

The new dawn brushes skies in pink,
a gorgeous sight, so one would think,
as sunshine's shimmer brings the day
yet, quiet in his bed he'll stay.

The mantle clock chimes out alarms,
eyes open wide; his outstretched arms
remove it from its resting place.
The second hand retains its pace...

The old man rises, tired and sore,
from all the life that's passed before,
beseeches God to call him home—
whilst all the while, clock's ticking drones.

His life-long love of fifty years,
who dried his eyes and calmed his fears;
beloved wife, now laid to rest...
...yet in the end, God thought it best.

He lifts a whittled piece of wood;
he's fashioned it the best he could.
A tribute to his faithful wife,
carved from an image of her life.

He shapes the wood with loving care –
when finally finished, puts it where
he can remember – reminisce...
whilst dreaming of her honeyed kiss.

Out in the family graveyard, where,
his faithful wife – who's buried there —
his one true love in fifty years,
stirs quietly – yon mist appears...

This battered soul – his head in hands —
sobs mightily, right where he stands,
"My God, hast thou forsaken me?
My joy's confined in misery."

Whilst in the washroom, silent, still,
the mirror waits with time to kill
the clock, now on the dusty floor
tick-tocks away, just as before...

Staring back, his worn reflection;
 haggard features, pale complexion,
look back at him with much disdain,
...he struggles to recall his name.

Out in the quiet graveyard ... there –
"Whence comest thou, oh icy stare?"
A wall of vaporous, murky gloom
lifts silently from musty tomb.

The old man sits alone, still crying,
white wisps caress his face, implying
that he stroll now into the mist.
This loving couple completes death's tryst.

The statue hands had carved with care,
sit silent on the mantle, where,
two wooden figures rest inert—
both covered in fresh graveyard dirt.

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