This never married gent resides right here,
He found he never could bring her home.
What’s that? You want more to hear?
He found himself unattached, free to roam,
Kind of like the wee ones, an elf or gnome.
The day his momma had her place tendered,
He knew he’d be here til she died.
Yet could he find a way to be rendered?
A smile and his face, never; but love, yes, hide!
Or so he thought to himself; he lied.
Then he met her one dismal winter,
She smiled in frilly dress, she was not poor.
His hand held the bannister tight with splinter,
Impulses gave way, such as like a film noir.
She with brown, bobbed hair said, “Please, pour!”
The gift from his mom, pleasant, yes he cared.
Would you live here with me? he’d ponder.
She saw mountains, crossed the room, leg bared,
“My brother owns mountains over yonder,”
He said. Should she settle? She now dared.
Years later he thought of that day,
Visiting still made him feel he found gold.
Their hearts fused as one joined like today,
Touches that shook, looks that lashes flickered away,
Brought warmth in temperature and the suns ray.
Til one year it was getting late and true.
No, it couldn’t be, were they getting old?
He asked her, “Do you still love me, my blue?”
“Why do you ask me, for this I’ve you told.”
“Only because, I need to be near you, I’m old.”
“We can do it, you know, tie the knot this spring,”
She said. He looked and thought her crazy.
“Yeah, that’s how I feel now, give me a ring.”
She had turned a corner, not a care, no lazy.
He felt pulses in his bones and wanted to sing!
Seventy years came and she sat in a chair.
He never drove, never sat, never held a wheel.
What would happen to his house? He didn’t care.
She had her life, the real deal, so much feel.
Then one day came those ladies, with the meal.
He died before her, she never had her ride.
She couldn’t bare to part with his prize, not sold.
To feel him again, not ready to depart from lifetime.
From the road she saw the decay and the cold,
Her heart rolled once; resolve made her bold.
The bat’s in the basement made such a sound.
Was this life’s end, sure as the cigarette must be a rue!
She waves a second time goodbye, no ghosts found.
The homestead standing old and still, ready to fall, too?
She’d rebuilt his place and paid them, the friendly crew.
By Caroline Clemens
~for Kellie Elmore picture prompt/image We Heart It
~5 lines, 10 verse 1&3 rhyme, 2&4&5 rhyme