Under A Bruised Sky

Bittersweet

       I weave through the trees, my feet mimicking the steps of our last dance. Our bench is just over the hill. I haven't visited this park since the last time we were together. As I dance alone a bruised sky looms over my head, much like the memories of you. I stop when I finally reach the bench. I can see the back of your head and your fingers tap out a random rhythm as you wait for me. The memory is so clear I almost call out to you. I almost think you're real. I hang my head once again and gently run my fingers along the bench's freezing metal railing. Instead of sitting I gaze out across the river, the trees now behind me. I pull my coat tighter around me as snow starts to fall gently. It's so unlike the last time we were here. The trees have shed their leaves, the flowers are dead, and the sun has disappeared behind heavy clouds. The scenery fits the mood perfectly. Hesitantly, I sit on my side of the bench and look at the empty space to my right. My gaze returns to the river and I can hear your voice echoing in my head. You're singing our song. That's one of the things I miss the most about you. Your love for music was almost stronger than mine. But now, music holds no pleasure or inspiration for me. Not now that you're gone. I close my eyes and I can almost feel your presence beside me. A tear falls but quickly evaporates in the dry winter air. My head moves to rest in my hands and I let sobs rack my body.