The old man
drifted into memories—
technicolour visions
of a young farmhand,
naked to the waist.

Sweat added a glossy shine
to an already impressive torso.
Mary, the land owner's daughter,
gazed longingly at her fancy,
then approached, offering
homemade lemonade.

He nodded thanks,
drinking the glass down
into his empty,
thirsting stomach.
They both smiled.

Slipping from the memory,
the old man
closed his eyes,
took a final breath,

and then
once again —
tasted lemonade.