The Old Neighbor and His Wife

He sat there waiting for a long summer's day to end
in an old wicker chair set in front of the open, crowded garage.
He had a light blue cap perched atop his balding head
and he's gazing off into the distance
as if waiting for some old friend who had promised to stop by.

He is a widow, his wife died five years ago,and his eyes were full of tears.
He grow old and settled.Thinking about his wife, his life, their life.
Quiet eyes and quiet voice silent and alive.
We can't always know every story,
every tall tale,
every ghost who watches over the living.
Every living being who watches over the past.
We are forgotten