past the cold street walls, the vapour of winter coats the breath i exhale.
it's early. postmen double their socks. later a milkvan jiggles crates of
milk over frosted cobble stones. breakfast bowls clatter......
i imagine you at the table. your slipper slipping off your swinging foot.
afterwards, watching a lone magpie in the garden / you wait for another.
but you are both alone in the cold...
you try remembering the heart of the arguement....it alludes you.
turning my back against the wind, i stop two blocks away. i feel
beaten. but isn't love a wounded heart?
at the door again i turn the key. looking back a solitary magpie
beats it's arrowed wings against the sky.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Frank Erureye. Published on e-Stories.org on 12.02.2015.