Conrad Geller

Long Island Sound

How various their shapes, those old married couples,
How odd their gait, now that the joints have frozen.
Down the path beside the miniature golf
Where kids are wasting time, to the broad boardwalk,
With folded chairs, two by two, they come.
Milt Somebody and His Orchestra is playing
The old songs over and over. Those who can, dance,
The others hum or talk, just like old times.

I know them, the very same old couples
Who used to sit around my father's table,
Men drinking tea, talking, while their wives served cake.
I was different then, of course, only a boy,
Wasting time. What else was there to do?

Milt has no singer, but the brass gives meaning
To all the songs, about love or its aftermath.
How sweetly they remember as they bide the long
Slow summer twilight, until the stars prevail.