I walked softly on uneven ground
and took a place on a bench by tall trees,
immersed in thought I sat,
for what could have been minutes,
what could have been hours;
they were all moments.
In time an elderly gentleman walked
up to the bench and asked
permission to enjoy my company.
I obliged.
He sat, hands deep in pockets
wispy white hair dancing on his
brow and only a light jacket,
but he never seemed cold in the February air.
We talked for what could have been minutes,
what could have been hours, they were all moments.
I asked of his love and family.
Heartbreakingly his wife and children
visit him no longer.
He asks me my thoughts and listens
with grave silence.
With rosie cheeks and numb hands,
I bid him goodbye for
what could have been minutes,
what could have been hours,
But was only a moment.
I left the cemetery a better person,
he went home the earth and little warmer.
