There are no answers
Except the ones already here
Rain drapes them like a haphazard cloak
Packed away with the winter woolens and forgotten like Mama’s ring and the China doll from before the war
Somewhere between the peonies and the irises, they bloom unseen
Lost like tomorrow’s yesterday
Dots in my history where stories should have taken root and grown.
As soon as the last leaf, bitter with summer’s death somersaulted away
He decided to leave
Because he didn’t feel he had a choice any longer
He came in knowing, started with goodbye
Then left before the first tear dropped.
Staying makes life uninteresting
But inertia wraps thick wool around us like a chrysalis cradle
So after answering all possibilities
The bus still sits,
idling and impatient
And even though the clock says it is time
Who can say it would have made the difference anyway?
anniegirl1138 