He tires easily these days.
But sleep is a tangle of the past and waking moments a fog of routine.
Mornings in the park with the pigeons
Afternoons playing pinocle at the senior center
Evenings inundated by nightly news and game shows
Nights….waking and listening for her footsteps.
Lost he is without her.
“You weren’t supposed to leave me,” he mumbles from his heart.
“Til death do us part,” her spirit whispers. Or was it just a breeze?
And the band plays on.