(The young woman and her new friend, Arf, continue their search for the future)
“I know the man who wrote this book. I recognize his name.
Is he the one orchestrating this senseless game?”
Arf didn’t move and he wasn’t sympathetic.
He looked at me as if to say, “I don’t do pathetic!”
“Okay, Arf!” I said. “Don’t look so perplexed.”
I’ll go along willingly, where do you want me next?
He went to the book and turned the pages with his paw.
I watched intently…not believing what I saw.
He started at the back and stopped at the beginning.
I saw the author’s photo. Now my head was spinning.
I’ll tell you this story, Arf. There’s no one else to tell.
I met this man the day I left somewhere I used to dwell.
He helped me board the train I took to some random destination.
He took the seat next to me and handed me a red carnation.
He asked me odd questions like, did I want to work or be a wife?
I said I hadn’t had a chance to plan the next stage of my life.
Before he got off the train, he handed me a book.
It was one he had written and he hoped I’d take a look.
I never read a word of it, though I should have I suppose.
Did I leave it somewhere? Only heaven knows.
Would it have been of interest to this lonely waif?
Someone who spent most her life never feeling safe?
The writer said something I haven’t thought about in ages.
He said I would find my truth between the pages.
I remembered the photograph. Who was I dancing with?
And how was she connected to the gentleman wordsmith?
That day he left me on the train, I didn’t hear all he said
As he removed his hat and slightly bowed his head.
It was when I heard the whistle, and when I heard the bell.
I heard a man’s voice whisper, “I bid you a fond farewell.”
Now, I can recall… he whispered something more.
“I know your father loves you… now and forever more.”
*************
I heard the whisper at the well say, “You’re ready to move on.”
Look back for just a moment to make sure the past is gone.”
Those 70ish Girls 