The east wind blows hard,
It quiets the singing lark.
Somewhere a dog is barking,
Far off across the park.
An old lady sits and rests
There on a stone-cold bench.
Withered, gnarly fingers
Her walking stick did clench.
A dog, it scampers past,
Enjoying being free,
Chasing after rabbits
That gathered round a tree.
An old man slowly walks by,
He stops and tips his old hat.
A quaint and gallant gesture,
There's little doubt of that.
He gestures there beside her;
She nods him in assent.
Now they quietly sit together,
Both gnarly, wizened, bent.
They speak about the weather
While making some small talk.
Searching to recall words,
Neither's inclined to walk.
They retell their stories,
Their journey throughout life,
Still mourning painful loss
Of late husband and wife.
“My husband, he would sit there,
Right there where you do.”
“My wife, she also sat there,
Just as you now do.”
Weeks they pass, they often meet,
Strange feelings when they part,
Their tenderness is growing,
Reaching one another's heart.
Their feelings slowly ignite,
No instant dancing spark,
A quiet and steady flame,
Warding off the freezing dark.
Then holding hands, they stand,
Look back, they can see,
Both their living partners,
Where they sat ’til recently.
Two ghosts now stand behind them,
Their blessing freely given,
The widowed couple walk away,
While their old loves pass from view.
No words are ever spoken,
No farewell need be said,
Two otherworldly Cupids
Fade softly with the dead.
