THE OLD MAN AND HIS PICTURE
There’s an old faded picture in his hand,
its edges are worn cracked and dry.
He’s held it close a million times now,
and a million teardrops he’s cried.
The picture showed it was old,
I guess she’d be about his age.
And you could see how much he loved her,
and the awful price he paid
The picture showed a sweet young girl,
so lovely with long golden hair.
But an old gray-haired man holds it,
and whispers sweetheart I still care.
It’s been a long time since she left me,
but tears still fill my eyes.
And sometimes I miss her so much,
that I wish I could die.
The picture is all I have left now,
there’s nothing left to hold on to.
Mr. please burry this picture with me,
Mr. please, I leave it with you.
His last words were sweetheart I love you,
and I know that I’m to blame.
I’m sorry that I hurt you,
and that I brought you shame.
We buried that old picture with him,
and if we didn’t, it would be a shame.
She was all he talked about,
but he never said her name.
____________________________________________
Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to igorovsyannykov on Pixabay
