“Everything crackles when I walk, dear,”
she said as she stood to go.
The teapot was whistling
And the TV blared loud
Because his hearing aid was turned down to ‘low.’
These splendid old bean eaters
These God loving fools
Live out their days alone.
She can barely see right
And her hands can’t much hold
The hair brush of hers
he plated with gold.
She’s hardly annoyed by the ways of this world,
She’s seen it all come and go except—
The caller ID is a plain old mystery—
What happened to telegrams?
This lovely of woman
And her lovely old man
Still live out their days as in old,
He goes to the barber and she to salon
To gussy up pretty for the drug store.
Few worries they have
But tonight without fail,
She’ll screech
“Al! What’s the Jeopardy channel?!”
“WHAT!?”
He’ll yell back as he shuffles her way
From the kitchen where
sleep closed his eyes as he waited “all day”
For that “damn coffee pot
that never made good coffee in anyway.”
Then they’ll eat stale chips
And he’ll start to snore
As she turns the TV up to its max;
Shifting thick, horn rim glasses that she’s had since high school
Untill in the blue TV lights her eyes will glow.
She can see her show is over
as the fuzzy credits roll down
She stands up and everything cracks,
Shuffle…
Shuffle…
Step.
She reaches for him
and covers his feet
with a quilt.