The lady across the road had beautiful grey hair, thick and
glossy, I admired her mane because she was eighty five.
Her hubby about her same age died, I attended the funeral,
open casket, in death he looked handsome, old man asleep.
When people get old, some do not realize how old they are,
and the old lady, since I had admired her lovely hair, thought
we could be a couple; only I was fifty two at the time and not
overly interested. The lady took offence, felt humiliated since
she already had told the villagers I loved her.
A day when I was doing a bit of weeding around the house
She came out; called me a womanizer, hit me with her umbrella.
Well I´m not heroic, fled into the house and bolted the door;
and the villagers were greatly amused. She moved to a rest
home and I could go out without being assaulted. I read in
the paper she had just died at hundred and five, but I will not
attend her funeral….I think.
