Fifty Years

By John I. Blair

Every day’s a gift they say;
But some I am reluctant
To unwrap, as I cannot guess
What they may hold.

Like today, the day
When fifty years have passed
Since we were wed.

Now you’re gone
And I’m still here, bemused
At what to do with all the time
That may remain to me
Persisting in the home we shared,
Haunted by my thoughts
Of the life we had together.

But I know you would insist
I keep on hoping, keep on loving,
Keep on being.

©2017 John I. Blair, 7/18/2017