He’s Gone Poem by Midifo Yearns

Jacket left appended to a knob at the back of his door
Large leather boots, skew but visible under his high bed
Pictures of teams to which he belonged and where he excelled
Peer out from the walls of his little room, seeking his presence
And in their midst a beautiful woman, who in her youth
Had stolen his heart and birthed his son and daughter,
Long gone both her and they in tragic circumstances that
Still, so often, brought a tear to his deep seated eyes

On table, in easy reach, a treasure of his latter years lay still,
somehow pleading. Rugged man, a man of men and yet
his rough working hands had often caressed those beads
as his lips moved in silent prayer. His well worn rosary
poignant witness as he slipped away. Was it in sleep he left
Or lonely longing? Was it in prayer or in a cry of anguish?
His motionless face gives nothing away, just rests in the pillow
He’s not here. He’s gone. And not much to gather for sale or to keep.