The table where we used to sit is empty,
bare but for a handful of citrus-hued leaves,
uncomfortable chairs that never supported
our backs or, frankly, our behinds, have been
turned upside down, stacked one on the other
and chained together like escaped convicts
in an old movie--in it together until they are
killed, recaptured, or freed by a stranger
with an axe. You may have noticed, I am not
being terribly romantic. There were days when
seeing our favorite place this desolate would
have depressed me. Perhaps, I would think
of a simile, about how the sidewalk cafe was
like our life together, unloved, abandoned,
or some such. But today, looking at the bereft,
rain-spattered tables, feeling the damp chill
creep from the sidewalk into my toes, I think
only this: I am different now. And I am glad.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Image via Pixabay
No comments:
Post a Comment