He almost fell,

He almost fell,

It would have been easy.

A clumsy tumble,

The turf soft with rain

Yielding,

His weight

Sliding into earth

Crumbling beneath his feet.

It was a tired misstep,

An accidental stumble

Over the resting place

Of a stranger,

Sleeping like the dead,

A gravestone as a pillow

But not his own,

Not yet.

The stink

Of putrefaction

Was everywhere,

The old drunk

Would join the residents

Soon enough,

With little or know

Additional effort.

What chance

The old man waking before dawn,

Even though foxes prowl

And old dogs howl.

Angels open their wings

To form a canopy

Of protection.

Cherubs play,

Children pray,

Frozen in marble.

And he would be long gone

Before they

Received an answer.

Kneeling before her grave,

Freshly dug

A single rose to lay

Clasped in his hand,

A reminder of

Happier times,

A signifier of loss,

A tribute of love.

He would come again,

Tomorrow,

What else could he do,

When his vow was

Never to leave her.

Nothing but infirmity

Could keep him away.