(May-day poetry number five.)
Old man drinking alone at the Irish Tavern and he had two drinks filled with whiskey and two cold beers. He held the whiskey and the seat next to him was empty with the a beer and whiskey, they sat alone. I sat with him in the next seat.
I saw deep sadness in his face and I said hello. I offered my hand to him. He looked at my military haircut and he accepted my hand. He asked me. “Would you like to join me and my good friend Roy for our yearly drink? He would like a fellow soldier to be with us. I told him. I would be honored and my name is John. He told me, my name is Paul. A Korean war veteran and Roy was my best friend. He is resting in Virginia next to his daddy. He loved the whiskey and beer. I drink to his memory on August fourth. This was the day he was killed in 1953. We must remember. Without a witness, he would disappear.”
My drinks arrived and we tapped the shots of whiskey. He told the sky. “To you Roy, my missed friend. I remembered you loved fishing and hunting. Now I fish and hunt for you. I taught my grandsons to fish. They do good. To you my friend and thank you for watching my back often.”
Now I am the old man sitting alone in late August in the tavern. I have a empty seat with a cold Miller lite and a whiskey next to me. I raise my whiskey glass into the air. To you Don. My best friend. Your daughters are beautiful and you are a grandpa. Thank you for being my friend. One day, I will join you and we will talk of grandchildren, the rodeos you forced me to see and the WWE. I even learn to love to go fishing. My grandchildren and me go every chance we can. I will see you soon.
I remember the old man words and I remember my father struggle. The old man words are true. “Without a witness, he would disappear.” We cannot allow this to happen to the good people we have known”.