Walking Alone

I see him walking alone. I’ve seen him before.

He’s always walking. Each time I see him I wonder about him.

Where is his destination?

It is six in the morning; why is he out walking?

It’s raining and he’s still walking, why?

I see him walking. Walking alone.

He seems to have no destination.

I wonder about his home and his family.

I wonder why he walks alone.

I long to know.
 

He passes my home and my curiosity takes over.

I can’t wonder anymore. I need to know.

I walk up to the lonely old man walking slowly with a slouch.

I ask him how he is. He says “fine.”

I ask him where he lives. He says “close by.”

I ask him about his family. He says “my wife died.”

I ask why he walks alone all the time. He says

“Without her my house isn’t a home, it’s just a house

Because home is where the heart is and she is my love. My heart. My home.”