By Donna

The backyard surrounded by dense foliage
is home to pine and oak trees.
If you are looking for
the old couple,
they still live at the end of the street.
Been in that house for over forty years.

She wakes up first,
puts on the kettle for tea.
She takes out two cups,
and places a tea bag in both,
sugar only in hers.
She begin to tidy up a bit
not like when she did
before the kids moved out.
Her veined freckled hands, evident of age,
shakes a bit as
she wipes the gray film
of dust covering the picture frames.
She looks intently at the
photo of her then younger husband.
Her silent prayer is
interrupted by his coughing.

He could never sleep well
with her out of bed;
and plus today he has to
figure out why the light
in the spare room was not lighting.
For her he took special care in
making sure the room

was comfortable and
everything worked as they should.
She needs to write
her stories...
sometimes...their stories.
It was always strange for him
seeing their story in print;
reviving the past
giving memories new life.
It made her happy
and he enjoyed making
her happy.
“Want some tea?” her voice echoed upstairs.
“Sure...no sugar”, he replied.