The near hysterical laughter trailed off
When the oldster raised his eyes to me.
You look tired, I said, my gaze running across his snow white hair.
What’s your wish while rest there, watching us laugh over nothing.
Just once more, said he. Even boringly seen a thousand time.
Just once more.
We’re laughing, we stated, over pictures of Mom and Dad’s clothes and
hair, and how things change.
And remain the same, saiys he, but always the same difference,
the sun rises, the sun sets, the laughing children of a summers day darting
through the misting sprinkler, the hawks playing, drifting on thermals, and the dogs soft
bark, always from a distance pleasing the imagination and ear.
I enjoy what you say, I say, don’t you always.
Oh, aye, says he, and will, I’m sure, just once more. Just once more.
(He’s still around, last time I checked. He was coming from the voting place and joined me beneath the old Elm tree out front. A rest on the bench before walking home for him. We talked for a while and I thanked him, in my youthful macho, for voting, because I said, so many of the elderly couldn’t, or wouldn’t thinking, I suppose, that it no longer mattered.
He grined and saiid; I know. But I’ll keep enjoying it: Just once more.
From the reaches,