Troubled,
wandering,
dulled by the dark,
stiffening
in apprehension,
uncognizant
of its own,
the mind
searches the
recesses
of the corridors,
in
the long trip
that is life.
A hand
in someone else's
a deep breath,
an assurance
on a stiff shoulder,
and he looks up,
searches.
A step
ahead,
and some more
and he has
turned
the corner....
A blink,
a nod,
and his face
creases into a smile;
this is not
an illusion,
its for real;
the soft light
rolling across the corridor,
applauded from behind,
by the greens,
peering in,
to
put their hands together
for Grandpa....
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