I drank the last swallow of my coffee;

dark and strong with a hint of sugar,

mellowed with a splash of cream.

Glancing at the clock,

I set aside my book

and got dressed.

Dark slacks and a charcoal sweater.

No mascara to run and puddle.

Sunglasses to hide behind.

Standing in the park,

I listen to birds sing

and voices speak.

I take deep breaths and stare

at his mother.

How is she holding up?

I can’t see her eyes behind huge sunglasses.

Others address and welcome me.

I hear whispering – “his first wife” –

I want to leave;

to nurse my pain



One thought on “Preparation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s