Past Midnight, Saturday,
Another week was over.
Nothing special happened,
She just got one week older.

Considering the alternative,
She ought not to complain.
She saw the sun each morning,
And the moon each night again.

That was more than some folks saw,
She sighed; so many had passed on.
Not enough fingers on her hands,
To count off the ones who'd gone.

The late night show came on TV,
Some innuendo made her smile.
Half-hearted, to be sure,
Today's jokes had little style.

Not seeing, she stared at the tube,
She saw John's image there.
"Oh," she thought aloud,
"He had the greatest hair."

Even when it turned white,
It lay in perfect waves.
No bald spot for John,
Thick and heavy all his days.

That made her smile broadly,
To see his handsome face.
But then she bit her lip,
The image left without a trace.

She turned off the television,
Guessed she should go to bed.
She leaned back against the couch,
And put her hands behind her head.

John gone now for several years,
How well she took his death.
"They said I did; I guess I did,"
Her shoulders back, she took a breath.

"Well, John, I had no choice, you know,
The kids were still so young.
I had to survive to keep them alive,
I didn't dare become unstrung."

"And they turned out so good, my dear,
I know you would be proud.
Johnny looks a lot like you,
Tall - stands out in a crowd."

A faint smile crossed her lips,
How quiet the room now seemed.
She fluffed the pillows on the couch,
And straightened up some magazines.

Then, she moved into her bedroom,
Laid the coverlet aside.
Said her prayers and crawled in bed,
Felt tears swelling in her eyes.

Then announced, "I will not do this!
I will not cry tonight!"
She reached for her bedside phone,
And turned on a soft night-light.

Dialing "O" for Operator,
A voice came on the line.
She heard the voice fine.

"MAY I HELP YOU?" next she heard,
"Oh no, dear," she said outright.
"I just wanted to hear a voice,
And tell someone, 'good night'."

She put the phone back on its cradle,
And settled down again.
She only wanted to say good night,
To a real, live, human being.

The lady at the phone company,
Was not perturbed at all.
In fact, she sadly, sweetly smiled,
When she got this good night call.

She thought about the caller,
She hoped she was all right.
Well, just another lonely soul,
That phones in on Saturday nights.

Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
copyright 2001

The handsome white hair gentleman is the artist
Midge Dover's late husband. You can visit her site at

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