A Capable Man

Folder: 
Prose

Vitality in a man of 67 is an awesome thing to see. He tried hard to collect and share knowledge at every turn.  He was a capable man prone to brooding and and feeling to empathetic the feelings of others

She had a gift.  A feeling of calm surrounded her.  She was one of those people that didn’t see the glass as half full or half empty more like why is there no water in it lets fill it up to the brim.

They decide one day to test their new friendship and set out on a snowy day up the path to the cabin.  Well prepared he had a pork pie and matches the cabin well stocked with firewood and provisions for an over night visit. She donned her toboggan and they set out,  Everything they needed was on his back.

The walk was uneventful and the laughter at the squirrels and rock formation kept them entertained until they sighted the abode in the mist.  It has started t rain and the mist rose the meet them as they stamped their feet inside the the shelter.

It was a shambles.  Critters must have found their way inside at some point and gnawed their way through the Hodge podge of stables in the cabinets.  those not in tin or glass were torn and eaten in all kinds of ways.

A few minutes to an hour the cabins was tidy and they sat down to a fire and the port pi.

He read to her that night a tale from Robert Frost of yabayabayab and they bedded down to sleep with the north winds picking up a howl.

They made love slowly his fear of intimacy slowly falling as her skills and care warmed him as the fire had earlier.

 

As a young man he was a model specimen tall blue eyed and talented in the physical way young men are.  His intellegence made school easy and he breezed through with little trouble missing however the social adeptness to connect in love.  So with her in his arms he felt a peace he couldn’t describe.  No fear no conflict no judgment or revile. So he thought as he was rare to do what it was he wanted.

His thoughts turned to dreams and he slept in the wonderland of the fantasy and saw what was to be and what was and what could be all in the time it took to breathe the words, “ I love you.”

 

 

He awoke to the cold and her gone from his arms, the door wide open and her tobaggon on the ground.

She was gone with the remainer of the pork pie in to the wilds above the town.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I want it to be a narrative poem but it flooded out too fast.  Ill be back to finish it My hard drive is full and i dont waant to lose it

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