I saw him again tonight as I took my evening stroll
Unfolding his tall frame, he emerged from his rusted blue Chevy
and slowly made his way toward
the house without a wife
Dirty windows, loose gutters and sagging shutters
welcome him home as he passes window boxes
void of her favorite lavender flowers
and overgrown shrubs blanketed by
brilliant red leaves the Old Oak shed like tears
at the house without a wife
Carelessly tossed garden boots sit under
the wrought-iron table
holding a well-worn book
A thin red ribbon marks the last page she read
And the cool wind gently pushes the rickety swing as it sings it's sad song
for the house without a wife
His hand closes on the tarnished knob and he slips quietly inside
Soft light shines across the front lawn from thinly veiled windows
and I wait, as has become my habit when i find myself in front of
the house without a wife
Curiosity paralyzes me as my mind wonders over what his life has become
His nest is empty and I have seen no visitors
The flicker of the television has become his constant companion
inside the house without a wife
Has he mourned his fill or does he still weep at day's end?
Does he long for a friend or would he prefer to wallow in the grief of his loss?
If I knocked would he turn me away or invite me
into the house without a wife?
Regrettably, my courage is thin and I do not leave my distant post
Rather I say another silent prayer
And as I have a thousand evenings before, I walk away unnoticed
from the house without a wife
