Teacups And Tears

An oldie given an airing

Time, the great healer, had done no such thing.
His home had become a shrine,
her photos adorning walls
and every dust covered surface.
He celebrated birthdays, anniversaries,
with her memory,
a table for two in their favourite restaurant,
two glasses of red poured.
Waiters would ask as to his partners arrival,
he would smile,
continue his conversation oblivious to the stares.
Back home he would comfy himself,
feet warm in slippers,
slippers that sat nestled aside hers when not worn,
these beneath her summer coat in the hallway.
With a whisky in hand he would pore over letters, albums,
watch over and over badly shot film,
weddings, birthdays, Christmas'.
Always there was laughter, a smile on her face.
When wearied he would kiss goodnight her beautiful wedding day face,
tell her that he loved her,
would see her in the morning.

In the kitchen two teacups, side by side,
sat readied for breakfast.

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

This is beautiful I wrote something the same a few months ago

[Gee]

Thank you. Let me know the title and I will visit and read

[Julie McCarthy (juliespenhere)]

Gum tree memory