The Old Man's Window

The old man lay in his hospital bed
His doctor at his side,
Saying gently as he could
"Sir, you, quite soon, will die."
The old man could barely turn his head,
Let alone sit up to reply
So the doctor said, "I'm sorry, sir,"
And left the old man to die.

A bright young man came strolling in
A book of stories in his hand
He said "I have come to read to you,
From my tales across the land."
The old man closed his eyes and said,
"A story would be fine,
I'd love to hear about your travels
Before I cross the line."

So the boy sat on the old man's bed
And opened up the book
Skimming through the contents
And starting at the story's hook.
Halfway through, the young man glanced
At the old and withered face
Then looked back down upon the page
And found he'd lost his place.

The old man smiled as best he could
And laid a hand upon the boy
"How's the weather, son?" he asked.
"Some shine would bring me joy."
Surprised, but happy to oblige
The boy looked to his right
Sad for the sweet old man
Who'd very nearly lost his sight.

"The sun is shining," said the boy,
"The sky is blue and clear.
The grass is sparkling bright and green,
And is that a jay I hear?"
The old man's smile widened
Ready for his midday nap
So the boy closed shut his storybook
And laid it on the old man's lap.

The very next day, the boy returned
To the side of the old man's bed
To find that every tale in his book
The old man had already read.
"I haven't brought another!"
The boy cried in despair.
"Now what shall I read to you!?"
But the old man did not care.

"Tell me of the weather, son,"
He croaked in quiet plea,
"In this pain I sure could use
Some sunshine just for me."
"Of course," replied the boy,
Who did not hesitate
To glance out of the window
And comment on the weather of late.

"The sun is shining," said the boy,
"The sky is blue and clear.
The grass is sparkling bright and green,
And is that a jay I hear?"
The old man let escape a grin
And settled in to sleep,
So the young man left, and took with him
A satisfaction buried deep.

For weeks and months the boy came back
Each and every day
And every time the old man asked
"So how's the weather today?"
And every time the boy would give
His answer just the same
Because he loved the sweet old man
Which is precisely why he came.

"The sun is shining," the boy would say,
"The sky is blue and clear.
The grass is sparkling bright and green,
And is that a jay I hear?"
And after that, they both would yawn
With not much more to say.
They'd bid goodbye and then, quite soon
The boy would be on his way.

One mid-morning, late July,
The boy did not appear.
And the old man cried quite gloomily,
"Why is my boy not here?"
The doctors merely shook their heads
For no-one knew this boy,
This boy who came and brought the sun
Who brought the old man joy.

He called his doctor over and said,
"My life is fading away.
I think that maybe I just might
Be ready to die today.
But before I go, I'd like to see
The blue sky for myself
The grass and the birds I heard from the boy
Through the window above that shelf."

The doctor saw that he had pointed
To a bare, blank stretch of wall,
But there was no such window there
And there'd never been at all.
The boy had told the sweet old man
What he would want to hear
If he knew he'd never see the sky again
If he knew that death was so near.

"Wait!" cried a voice, and the doctor turned
To the young man rushing in
"Sorry I'm late," he said quietly
Ashamed that he'd slept in.
"Tell me of the weather,"
The old man whispered without pre-empt
And the boy replied as he always did
The truth just slightly bent.

"The sun is shining," said the boy,
"The sky is blue and clear.
The grass is sparkling bright and green,
And is that a jay I hear?"
Tears streaked down his handsome face
As the old man sent thanks his way
Crying, as he sat and watched
The old man pass away