morning poem #2, march 28, 2016

He sat in the plastic chair in the little room,
Early morning, mid-winter, all silent
And through the window he watched
The few cars moving slowly
Drivers who had braved the storm.

This place, now a shop
Where he waited for a new muffler
Was once a bus depot
Then the only contact this town had
With the outside world, with commerce
(It has none, now)

It was on this very spot, half a century ago
Where she said goodbye to him
Even though, even then, it was not a real goodbye
Like everything else they had done
They danced around it, or maybe she
Did not even see it as such
This was just another day
Another temporary leaving
And life went on.

Copyright 2016

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