The old man really loved his woman,
clutching his arthritic hand
around a curved cane
confused without his love,
lost without her.
Mind decay,
mixed with golden years heartache
the love of his life tries to fade away,
yet her lasting memory remains.
I cry like a baby
sitting on the edge of my bed
remembering the day,
the old man insisting his love
will always stay, his wife
in the light of immortal decay.
Left to wonder
why his one true love did not stay,
why she went away,
he tries to find her
once again,
on this very day
in search of golden years love.
His voice loud and full of love
he cries out,
“I haven’t lost her a day in over 50 years,
and I will be damned if I lose her on this day!”
