The Last Time He Told Her Goodbye

The Last Time He Told Her Goodbye

He stood there so still upon the cliff's edge,
as if he was chiseled from stone.
His ancient eyes spoke of profound truths,
answers to questions unknown.

His attention was riveted on the water below,
as the waves came galloping in.
He looked uncertain as to where he was going,
or how to forget where he'd been.

His attire spoke of suffered degradations,
and trials he still had to face.
It was obvious that he was a haunted soul,
but his stance held no disgrace.

Storms of sorrow etched his dark features,
like snapshots from the past.
His anguish was deep like the sands of time,
his symphony faded too fast.

In his arms he held a bouquet of white lilies,
a last token of love for his wife.
A waterfall of angst coarsed down his cheeks,
letting go of her cut like a knife.

An inflection of reverence in every word spoken,
he whispered his last goodbye.
As he threw her the lillies I heard these last words,
'my love for you will never die.'