70th Anniversary
They spent their 70th anniversary
just lying beside each other
in the frozen cold of the church yard,
the snow heaped on their graves,
but together again for the first time in years.
I remember my grandfather,
the day before he died,
singing “Lara’s Theme” at his birthday party,
his eyes wet as he sang about his love,
whose eyes had faded,
grown distant,
clouded over with confusion
before they closed forever.
I think how lonely it must have been
to sing alone those years
after my grandmother died,
what it must have been like
to have the hand you held for decades
grow cold then be gone.
Oh love,
if I’ve known you,
I have never sung your name.
I have only heard it on the air
in the music that passed between them—
two people less lonely
because they still had each other
when everything else in the world had gone.
