Poetry (Day 123): The End


     The End

I didn’t know them,
the old couple
who walked
along the street every day.

Faded jeans, sandals.
Sleeves rolled up to the elbow.
Floral dress and a blue straw hat.
Always. Different but the same.

The didn’t speak. They just
walked together and enjoyed
the morning air.

They had a dog, almost
as old as they were.
It wasn’t immediately obvious
who dictated the slow pace.

Then one day,
they weren’t there
and it saddened me.

I sat and sipped my coffee
and read my newspaper
and wondered
what had happened.

It saddened me more,
when the old man,
and the dog, returned.

I drink my coffee inside now
because I don’t want to know
how the story ends.


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