Paul F. McCann

A STORY TO BE TOLD

I heard the shot and turned around
the old man fell down on the ground.
I ran over to where he fell.
His soul bound for heaven or hell.
His open wound profusely bled.
I looked at him and softly said,
“Is there anything I can do.”
“Listen to what I’m telling you.”
I gently lifted up his head,
And listened to the things he said.
“I have a bullet in my gut,
and I know my number is up”
On to each of his words I clung
“I am old but you are still young,
and my house needs urgent repairs.
Can you fix the floorboards and stairs;
the walls could do with a soundproof
and replace those tiles on the roof.
Can you finish that concrete edge,
around the rose bed and the hedge?
I’ve wanted to do that for years. “
My eyes held back a well of tears,
“Sure old man I’ll do that for you “
His time to go was drawing near.
Then I felt his breath disappear