[Inspired by Will Stratton’s “Who Will”:]
Out on the porch, morning cup of coffee
in hand, watching the mist rise from the grass
dampened by night, she could still feel those fingers –
five fingers and toes, and a cute button nose –
a little fist that gripped, that held her there, enraptured.
So many years had been and gone in the time since
then, until now, here, with this view – a canvas
for memory. She sipped her hot brew,
warming her throat, closing her eyes, as the last
twenty years raced by inside her lids – personal
projector screen. She smiled at his smiles,
felt sad when he did, never gave thought to an alternative
path, a different direction in life. Her life
wouldn’t have been hers without him.
She worried for tomorrow, the future emptiness,
but relaxed as a firm hand took its place
on her shoulder, reinforced their coupled bond.
Her son may be moving on, but her husband was not.
Their hair may be greyed, but their love never would.
Slowly, she rocked her chair, watched intently
a spider rebuilding its web – diligent homemaker.
Yes. Everything was as it should be; and all as it would.
[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]
[Image sourced from Fotothing.com]