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A Tattered, Torn Umbrella


A tattered torn umbrella
that once kept us from the rain.
A few dog eared postcards
of a beach in sunny Spain.

Fading photographs of us
when we were very young.
An old worn out scribbler
filled with many stories
about the foolish things we’ve done.

The only light in this dark night
is a distant twinkling star.
I still can’t understand
why things became the way they are.

The years stretch out before me
filled with loneliness and pain.
I’ve asked myself a thousand times
why am I the one to remain
amidst the things we collected
as we journeyed on life’s train.

A bunch of faded photographs,
a few picture postcards
of a beach in sunny Spain,
and a tattered torn umbrella,
that once kept us from the rain.

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