Mabel…her shallow connection
She walks with one foot dragging, twisted,
her aged back a little hunched, to the left,
a soulful face but smeared by stroke,
one side drooping, just a little.
Her shopping stroller threadbare, a floral profusion,
the old warn wheels squeaky and erratic,
their rhythmic resound in time, off and on,
with her shuffled intermittent advance.
They call her Aunt Mabel,
the local kids snicker at her unbecoming appearance,
but each day at eleven her pilgrimage ensues,
to the corner shop then pub, for her much needed panacea.
She sits by the window, gazing pensively,
one brown ale, icy cold, her chosen appendage,
and remembers the laughter and evening joys,
when youth drove life to simplicity.
It takes two hours to down that brew,
to relish each and every nuance of its goodness laden hue,
and then struggling to her feet, she finds the street,
and the parade continues home.
Her hair is bedraggled, one prominent comb atop,
to keep it together, she assumes,
and her blue floral dress is soiled, unwashed for a month,
and her thoughts are maudlin, lost to a past bereft of now.
In her armchair she sits at home,
his picture clenched in her rheumatoid hands,
stroking his young handsome face, his uniform crisp and pressed,
trying to remember how he smelt, the warmth he exuded.
Mabel, long given up without him, waits,
and still she remains, her daily pilgrimage a shallow connection,
to a life lost, a yearning unsated,
until that moment, when he will stand before her,
and remind her what life was about.
Tony DeLorger © 2017
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A beautiful story of an elderly woman with cherished memories. Very well penned, Tony.
Thanks Phyllis, so sad when the love of your life is gone and all one has is the memories. Take care.
Yes, I guess it would be.So many older people are alone, without having one to love. I am fortunate.
There are so many Mabels, George’s and Ron’s. Living on memories close to their hearts. Getting by each day rich or poor. I’ve seen both, the sadness is extreme, I’ve sat with a woman similar to Mabel, she was in her own world now, totally oblivious to her surroundings, but always clutching an old creased black and white photo of her wedding picture with her husband. We drift into our own world near the end, we care nothing about living, just waiting for our last breath. Yes indeed, they are out there and when we come across them, we must show great empathy, not sympathy. My heart hurts for Mabel’s of the world. Well written Tony, I had the visual in my head and felt every stroke of your pen. Kudos.
It is sad and hard to witness, these souls longing to be reunited with their lost loves. But I guess there is a life path for all of us and in the end we follow it out of choice. Glad you appreciated it Vincent. Cheers!