It's peaceful.
There's a shudder through the
branches of the tree above me
and the wind rushes over the nearly-formed
sunburn on my cheek.
It's early in the summer.
Early in the day too,
and I can feel the fresh dampness of the ground
soaking into my sweater
as I lie there. Sprawled on the ground,
eyes closed against the sun.
I think they expect me to miss you in the way
that they do. With tears and
longing and an aching
aching heart.
They want me to sadden at the mention of your
name and count the days that pass
without you here by my side, reading me poetry.
But my heart is light.
I savour the lingering
tendrils of spring and I
dig my fingers into the soil
and I walk
barefoot
along the creek, shoes clutched tightly in hand.
I do miss you.
But my mind is filled with flowers
and moths
and sunshowers.
And I won't spare you a thought until your
return. When I will greet you with a smile.
And clutch your hand.
And hold you close until
you once again dis
appear.
YOU ARE READING
While We Wait
Randoman anthology of short stories and poems that i've written instead of working on the larger projects i've started or doing my homework,, [might eventually have some writing practice shorts for other writing that is currently in the planning stages?]
