The Man on Thursday

by Maile Morrell

 

When I was little,

I would play outside with my friends.

Every Thursday, I would see a man.

He would walk down the street, and back.

 

He was an old man.

With wrinkly skin like elephants.

He had kind eyes, with round silver glasses.

During his weekly walks, he thinks about people far, far, away.

 

Victoria, his gracious daughter.

Nick, his rascal son.

And who could forget 2 year old, Jason, the little energizer-bunny!

But he doesn’t dare think about Emily.

 

Emily was perfect for the old man.

She had dark brown hair,

Which danced in the wind.

And those hazel eyes that twinkled.

With that big, sparkling smile.

The old man misses her.

He misses her so much.