Three Fewer Trips Around The Sun Poem by Alexander Beebe

The porch drapes in full circumference,
the center stage where life was played.
He now just visits on the west wing
and waits for friends that he has made.

The coo of dove they harmonize with
gentle clapping of the leaves, symphonic
afternoon delight that gives his long days some reprieve.
He smiles and stares into the foliage until such time
their wings take leave.

The lives of those who graced the landing
now too infrequent, or so it seems.
His soul mate passed and crossed the threshold
to where the angels greet our dreams.

As winter draws he takes his seat inside the windowpane.
His observation still acute, discerning but not sustained.
His life well represented adorned in pictures on the walls.
He still can hear the sound of children echo through the halls.

A life well lived with no regret, his heart is full of joy and peace.
He often thinks of his companion, he sees her face in every dream.
It's been some time since her passing, three fewer trips around
the sun. The dove they cry among the branches, his journey ends, he finds
his love.