Another Sunrise In His Day Poem by Donal Mahoney

Will I walk again,
Tillie mumbled,
lost in the fog of

her knee operation.
The surgeon predicted
she'd toss her cane away

in two months.
Still in a fog, she asked
if she'd walk the way

she walked before,
with the same locomotion,
as her husband called it,

a walk he studied
through binoculars
behind lace curtains

from the upstairs window
sitting in his wheelchair
as she strolled through

the garden, picking a
bouquet, creating another
sunrise in his day.