In dusks somber drizzle he hobbles,
soft gray light, as shadows feed.
Taking small steps, barely noticed,
Supper, a gift he has long forgotten, he accepts with grace,
“Why me, why did you choose me? “I don’t know” I reply…I honestly don’t.
The fire in his eyes speaks of another world, other lives,
“I have built worlds and been held captive, watching as they crumbled.”
“Cancer, war, and so much more” …”I tried, honestly.” “Everything dies, I could not help!”
“My heart has been held gently.” “As I have held others.”
“Two wives and three children, gone now.”
We talked of places Samuel had been, all the faces,
The twenty dollar bill, pressed gently into his hand, all I have,
“I feel I know you, I have seen you.” His voice quivering, his eyes moist,