Note: I’m a retired library director living in Pennsylvania Amish country. I write poems, grow wildflowers, make jam and follow the seasons in my kitchen. My first chapbook, Finding Stella Maris, was published this past winter. Poetry website: www.ingridbruck.com
The old soldier passed on.
His widow unlocked the side door,
entered their empty home.
Mold wafted up the cellar stairs
from a man cave where ball caps lined shelves,
no one to wear them.
She wound his three clocks,
the pendulums swung, chimes rung the hour,
no longer joined by his cheerful whistle.
Outside in the driveway, encased in ice,
the parked car shimmered in sunlight
that broke the shell— it shattered like his heart.
Her hero has marched away
to long ago battles,
his unmatched clocks clash keeping different time.
©2019 Ingrid Bruck
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