Frozen foggy night
he ran ahead
toward a silent grove
of skeletal trees
fearless or perhaps
just better able
to bear his fear
Trusting that about
his heart she packs
her bags to go but
there’s half a beer in
her Solo cup so she
sips and plans her drive
Drink up and listen
to the cynic telling her
that by the time her cup
is empty the boy
will have moved on
a sapling like him
knows how to bend
and sway
Three weeks ago
he told her everything
would be okay
no questions asked
but the bag of maps
in his truck made her
restless because
he was afraid to be
the last one to arrive
Listening to the acorns
fall onto their failing roof
he thinks it was always
going to be like that
her way or the highway
and it was
But now she’s calling
every night to talk
about her bourbon and
blue jean life and all
he knows is that the heart
of a mighty oak will never
turn to ice
He can’t see what
tomorrow holds
and that makes him bold
Shut up he says drink fast
and fly because my cup’s
half gone the night
is young the road is long
and you’re going to be
the last one to arrive
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Free-Photos
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