The Chair and the Promise

The window slowly creaked upward
I clapped and rubbed my hands together
Watching the old dust drift out into the air
Tears began to slip down my tired face
While my mind drifted from the dusty room
He, silently resting in his chair
carefree, old and gray
His years had been talked away
I had listen, sitting beside him
in the soft twilight

Wins and loses he spoke of, unfinished things
The love of his life and his betrayal
He remembered old dogs and cars, pickup trucks
And friends long passed
He smiled at times of honor
And laughed at the many failures

Looking back from the window
The chair, his thinning gray hair at the top
His favorite chair, in it he sat as he had for years
Eyes fixed ahead on the black and white
Early morning news

Brushing the tears from my face
I took a breath of new mowed lawn
The sound of morning bird song began
As I walked back into the room

The room was sparsely furnished
All that was left of a long life
I knelt down before him
Looking into his lifeless eyes
I smiled at his stony grin

There was a narrow trail of dried blood
That had leaked from the tiny hole
It had stopped and pooled
At the tip of his nose

I looked down at the pillow on the floor
I had used to muffle the sound
Checking my jacket pocket, yes, the gun was there
I pulled a cigarette from my shirt pocket

I reached down and picked up the old metal lighter
From the table next to his chair
He had said his dead son had given it to him
Long ago, as a gift
I flipped it open and lit my smoke
Snapping it shut, I let it drop in my pocket
Next to my gun.

I stood, paused, and gave him a quick salute
I turned an left, softly shutting the door behind me

© Copyright 2006 G. Jones