Flash

One wooden chair on an unkempt porch
bent and frayed with the passing of years
so much like its owner only slightly more graceful

His face is an open diary
thousands of stories interwoven
among the scars and lines of being
tales too deep to understand

With ever growing reluctance
through ever dimming windows
he gazes upon his surroundings
and for the moment forgets
exactly where he is

Sadly, it returns to him and
another crease is added to the page
such sad and poignant lines
from such an unwilling scribe

An unexpected wind manages
to raise a heavy brow
as eyes focus upon an aged friend
who after much cajoling
(and sweet, sweet whispers)
relinquished her amber colored bows

He watched those determined spirits float
upon the breeze and with every eager petal
that found its way to open arms another
shutter blinked and captured all

Additions to the scrapbook
nestled between the memories
of black cherry soda and
the sweetheart he had to say good-bye
to those ten winters ago

His face caught an uninvited tear
and tossed it to and fro
before letting it settle
upon a dusty knee where it sank
ever so gently into its patchwork

He raised an unfamiliar hand
before his eyes wondering
just how it had come to be this way
as he wiped the heaviness from a weathered cheek
just as she did so lovingly

All the while the chair held its place
looking upon its master fondly
waiting for to tenderly cradle him
with all the care in the world.