Return of the beloved

She takes her coat off and leaves it on the kitchen bench,

turning out the lights, she gives life to a flame, lighting a candle,

we sit down by the window and speak in whispers

about people we both know.

A woman from our school died,

a sister divorced,

a child from our hometown, drowned.

Exhausting our gossip,

we begin to talk about God,

politics, movies, and the future

until the old clock chimes out three a.m.

and the candle passes away slowly from old age.

I take her into my room

and we hold each other

sleeping through the morning

and missing the traffic that races to desks in white offices.

Advertisements

One comment

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s