The Couple

The hopeful, loyal girl
Waited as she promised
She would.
He has forgotten her face now.
She doesn't remember anything
More than his name, anyway.
There were days when they both
Wailed in the pain of separation.
"I'll come back," he said.
"I'll wait".
Promises are mere words.
Words were forgotten.
"He is probably dead by now,"
She declares,
Clutching the collar of her cane.
They are no longer young.
She doesn't remember much
Of even the previous day, anyway.
She chants his name
As she claims her deathbed.
She remembers how he used to smell.
"Probably he just passed by," she sighs at the familiar smell.
Traces of tears on her wrinkled face.
How would he know?
He has forgotten her face.
She is dead now.
Did it matter, anyway?