The streets are crumbling here,
the sidewalks interrupted by green weeds.
Mrs. Jones’ house isn’t kept up anymore.
It’s been ten years now since she passed away.
Isn’t it funny how an afternoon can pass so slowly,
yet a life can pass so quickly?
I worry about old Mr. Thames.
It’s been six months since he lost his bride of fifty-three years.
I see him sitting on the front porch every morning,
staring off into the distance,
unable to accept his new reality.
Life can deal you a cruel hand sometimes.
And people lower their head around you,
hoping you’ll eventually just move on.
But I’ve learned there’s no such thing as moving on.
Life always leaves it’s indelible mark on us.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published September 2013.
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