Peter A. Witt
The end of loneliness
“There is a loneliness in this world so great that you can
see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock.”
–Charles Bukowski
Hands of the grandfather clock died
when the old man surrendered his breath
to the moon and stars, gave up tomorrow
to live in the beyond.
He passed out of reach our arms,
arms that had ignored him for what
seemed like weeks, as he lived
alone with a cat too old to purr
and longed for birds that no longer
chirped at his empty window feeder.
Months ago voices dissipated like whispers
as his hearing departed with the wind
leaving him bereft in a silent world,
winter chill seeped into his bones like
a frozen winter pond, as his dignity
was lost to incontinence.
In the final moments thoughts
of sunrise and blueberry pancakes
blazed like a fleeting comet, then
faded with the last tick of the now
silent clock pendulum.
Other work by Peter A. Witt