Wednesday, May 9, 2018

Last One to Arrive (Day 476)

Frozen foggy night  
he ran ahead  
toward a silent grove 
of skeletal trees  
fearless  or perhaps 
just better able 
to bear his fear

Trusting that about 
his heart  she packs 
her bags to go but 
there’s half a beer in 
her Solo cup so she 
sips and plans her drive

Drink up and listen 
to the cynic telling her 
that by the time her cup 
is empty  the boy 
will have moved on 
a sapling like him 
knows how to bend 
and sway

Three weeks ago 
he told her everything 
would be okay
no questions asked  
but the bag of maps 
in his truck made her 
restless because 
he was afraid to be 
the last one to arrive

Listening to the acorns 
fall onto their failing roof  
he thinks  it was always 
going to be like that  
her way or the highway  
and it was

But now she’s calling
every night to talk 
about her bourbon and 
blue jean life  and all 
he knows is that the heart 
of a mighty oak will never 
turn to ice 

He can’t see what 
tomorrow holds  
and that makes him bold  
Shut up  he says  drink fast 
and fly because my cup’s 
half gone  the night 
is young  the road is long
and you’re going to be
the last one to arrive 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Free-Photos

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