SHACKLES OF TIME

The old man in the grey coat knelt by the grave and placed a single yellow flower on the marble headstone. A strong gust of wind sent a sudden chill through the air, as the autumn leaves gathered at his feet. He slowly rose, raising his head to glance at the ominous sky. He shivered, but made no attempt to button his coat. Once more, he turned his gaze to the darkening sky and then proceeded slowly down the walk way with slow deliberate steps. A sudden bolt of lightening illuminated his face; he did not seem so old now—just tired from the weight of his invisible burden. His dark disheveled hair, streaked with sporadic grey, blew in the wind, unattended. He narrowed his eyes against the blowing wind and his blank expression overwhelmed his entire countenance. He turned to glance back at the grave; it was then that a look of sadness overcame his face that seemed to pierce deep into his soul. The sky opened up with a heavy downpour but he remained quite oblivious of the rain and kept on walking at the same slow pace, lost in thought. Rain was coming down harder now; fogging up his glasses, almost blinding him He began walking down the path again. No hurry!