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Near the rocky road, behind the old barnyard,
where the gray owl ruffles its feathers,
Old Man Henry sits on an empty bench.
He wets a grinding stone and patiently hones his machete.
His machete had thinned beyond repair;
years of honing had taken its toll.
But tonight, it seemed sharp; paper-thin sharp,
as sharp as the memory of that fateful night.
Old Man Henry caught a glimpse of the twinkling stars;
He had postponed his trip,
a trip past the vastness of the cosmos,
to the arms and songs of the awaiting angels.
He grinds again and again; honing with patience.
Malevolent thoughts race through his mind;
as he stares steadily into the past.
It seems like only yesterday,
that Old Man Henry fed the magpies from his bench.
But oh, how things changed that October night.
The owl’s hoot was heard no more.
Old Man Henry had found his gold.
The river had rewarded years of patience.
But, for a few pieces of gold, his life was snuffed out.
For gold, his young neighbor had committed a sin.
Now, justice had to be done.
Old Man Henry would seek his revenge tonight.
His blade was as sharp as the barn owl’s stare.
Old Man Henry waited by the side of the road that led to his old log cabin,
the same road where he horribly expired.
the old rocky road, where his dreams of gold were interred.
Old Man Henry caught a glimpse of the young man approaching,
a young man that had aged with the years,
a sickly old man, who carried his guilt upon his shoulders.
Sleep had evaded him since that night.
For he was no longer a young lad;
he was an old and tormented man now.
Old man Henry saw him differently.
He saw him young and exuberant.
The old man passed by the empty bench.
Old Man Henry had hidden behind a tree trunk.
His blade raised above his head.
It would soon unleash years of torment.
The blade swung through its intended target.
The old man flinched slightly, but kept on walking.
Once again, he would feel a cold draft upon his head.
triggering thoughts of his well-kept secret.
Old Man Henry went back to his bench and sat;
His blank stare would erase tonight’s events;
and would send him back to honing.
He picked up the stone and began to sharpen yet again.
He will try it again tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he will surely succeed.
This time he will not fail.
Once and for all, he will avenge his death!
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