The Silent Mandolin Poem by John F. McCullagh

My old friend, you sit in the corner of my room.
My neglect of you is your silent accusation.
How I long to take you in my arms again
and make beautiful music together.
Alas I am not free. I have long loved another.
Now she has been stricken by a terrible fate.
A stroke has laid her low.
My beloved wife cannot speak.
Her whole left side is paralyzed.
I cannot leave her.
I must remain true to my hearts first love,
Even though, looking in her eyes I see
no trace of Love or even recognition.
My world has shrunk to a small suite of rooms
Where a rented hospital bed cradles my Love
And the I.V. drips and machines monitor.
I who once sang for her in a beautiful baritone
and played for her my mandolin.
Now I know only songs of sadness and
I cannot play with these tear filled eyes.
So I have put aside my Mandolin.
I hold onto the hand of my Beloved

and the silence overcomes us both.