TWIGS & LEAVES
Upturned collar, bowed head, hands thrust deep into pockets.
The many layers of clothing fail to keep out the chill of loneliness.
As the frigid wind stings my cheeks, and deposits twigs and leaves in my hair.
Rain hides the tears that run freely, and heart wrenching sobs are lost on the scything wind.
The empty hollowness of my heart screams like a thousand wailing banshees, but the faceless people who pass me hear nothing.
The trees that line the avenue creak and twist in the fading light as if in some eternal torment.
At the bench, ‘our’ bench at the top of the hill I sit, looking down at the lights of the city, timeless and unchanging, but cold and uninviting.
Here on ‘our’ bench I remember those long warm nights when we sat and
laughed, kissed and held each other with a desperate need to never let go.
Two souls that had finally found peace in a world of chaos.
I know that peace will come again, one day when you return.
But until then, I will sit, alone and wait.
Crying silently as I pick the twigs and leaves from my hair.