He moved in shadows
in ghostly strides that gained on nothing
but grains that slipped through the hands of time,
She lingered in loss
under caged cobwebs where the widow in black
had weaved her the witch from a pantomime.
She lived two floors up
an attic assembly of ageing antiques
fading to dust and distinctly untouchable,
He was basement left
a sunless space where nothing grew
disregarded, depressed and growing dysfunctional.
She existed in memories
where arms that once held her faded in frames
He shivered in silence
too afraid to attempt, too old to make claims.
She cried on Saturdays
and still shopped for two in her one roomed space,
He ate from boxes
of pre prepared food and longed for taste.
She died on a Tuesday before morning mass
he died that night from a cold he thought would pass .
They laid them together, side by side,
in the depths of the morgue, in a silence that sighed.
Two people who’d never exchanged a word,
two people lost in the shadows of the world.
All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
Damien B. Donnelly 
Sadly too true for many old people.
It’s funny what can unite people. Hope all is well with you
Just bumbling along here, thanks. You do see very unlikely friendships, real odd couples. Old people who seem to hate one another but they’re always around together. They’re a different species, I think.
I guess misery does like company. I prefer to be miserable alone- maybe I’m just selfish😳
I’d say it’s a sign of thoughtfulness. Nobody really likes to share another’s misery, especially if there’s nothing they can do about it. Maybe for some old people it becomes a burden shared. I hope I never find out.
Interesting take on destiny. I love how you wove their lives together. Separate, yet ending up together in the end. Sad, yet beautifully written. Such is the mysteries of life.
Thank you Olga.