The Void of Yesterdays

 

Peering around the smooth worn edge

of a door worked by hand, from Oak

stained in the shade of watered down coffee,

she looked like a child despite her years--

all wide eyes and carelessly pinned hair.

 

From inside she watched the scene

of mothers leaning on fathers, and children

running wild in their best dress, new shoes

on wet grass, burnt yellow and tan,

little hands on watermelon slices, sweet

syrup smudged faces beaming like the sun.

 

She wanted to swim away through the thick

Thursday morning air, past the neatly rowed houses 

and ribbons of faded pavement, until the voices

and intentionally uninviting conversations

were nothing more than the rustling of leaves

and the quiet singing of mountaintop breezes.

 

Absently tracing the ghost band still alive

on her ring finger, white against cream skin,

heavy with the absence of gold and diamonds,

she pretended not to hear the too loud whispers,

“Poor girl”, they said, looking through her until

she was truly lost in the void of yesterdays.

Reviews

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Whoa...heavy...

All I'm going to say is, your words are beautiful, turning even sad and disheartening words into angelic script. =)

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

The longing you describe here is really amazing... you paint the picture as the whole thing could be played out in my head and I could feel for this woman wanting back that love... you have such a gift when it comes to imagery and expressing emotions.

[KUFU]

I have read this GEM several times and each time my consciousness is transported to that row of houses and those inconsequential conversations laughingly blowing in leafy whirl-winds.
Simply beautiful Anima.
You know 5 stars are an insult. (AO prints it out)