Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Winter Cafe (Day 314)

The table where we used to sit is empty, 
bare but for a handful of citrus-hued leaves, 
uncomfortable chairs that never supported 
our backs or, frankly, our behinds, have been 
turned upside down, stacked one on the other 
and chained together like escaped convicts 
in an old movie--in it together until they are 
killed, recaptured, or freed by a stranger 
with an axe. You may have noticed, I am not 
being terribly romantic. There were days when 
seeing our favorite place this desolate would 
have depressed me. Perhaps, I would think 
of a simile, about how the sidewalk cafe was 
like our life together, unloved, abandoned, 
or some such. But today, looking at the bereft, 
rain-spattered tables, feeling the damp chill 
creep from the sidewalk into my toes, I think 
only this: I am different now. And I am glad.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image via Pixabay

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