Life

Weathered and beaten,
Strands of wispy grey gracefully falling across his face,
Lines of the years passed,
Memories carved in skin.

The paddock yellow and dusty,
A willowed mare stands alone,
Her age as old as he and her body as alone and weary.

Momentarily a memory,
Hair as long and brown as silk,
She rode across the paddock,
Wind rushing through her hair,
A smile passing from her to him as their gaze met.

Long gone were times such as these,
A splintered cane chair,
Paint peels float to the bare boards of the verandah,
Grey eyebrows look up from mans best friends face.

A solitary stone,
Sits alone to the west paddock,
The smell of the roses surrounding it floats to the verandah,
'Goodnight sweetheart'.