She wrote me a poem

I forgive her.

It's beautiful, I say:

A

Lifeboat

After the shipwreck

Don’t get old
The old boy said

As he struggled past me
With his walking stick

Don’t get old
He repeated

As though by telling me
I would be able to avoid it

There’s a 25 year old
Fighter pilot inside me, he said

Then he was on his way
Hunched over
Shuffling along
With his walking stick

John died last night, my wife reported

Sadness:

Mostly for him

Some for me

As I’m reminded

My days are numbered

He was a good old guy:

Led a full life

Survived war

And marriage

I wondered what he thought at the end

Knowing his time had come

What an inglorious finale?

Or

Just

Relief to finally be departing

This absurd life?    

I’d invited him to visit my studio

The last time we spoke

He said he would like that …...

I tried to do right

With all I had left

I kissed her:
Forbidden fruit.

Sweet
But the memory is sour.

Now
I am alone.

Ashamed
For betraying you.

The pain
My punishment.

Do you want to hear my best ever? I asked
Ok, she said uninterested
I might as well have asked
If she wanted to hear last night's football results
Or the shipping forecast
I recited Four Seasons Winter
It was a good reading:
I nailed it
The drama
The  timing
The punchline
She said......
Is that the best you can do?
It was like a punch to the gut

We pretend to be normal

She is sobbing

I am helpless

I reach out

She pushes me away

I walk out the door

For once I don't care