It’s Past Half One


past half one, It’s Past Half One

It’s past half one
he’s still not home
A chilly, moonless night.
Why doesn’t he answer his phone?

Before he left,
he held me
and kissed me
longer than he usually does.

That look in his eyes!
“Will you stop worrying so much?”
He stooped on the creaky porch
to adjust his worn brown bootspast half one, It’s Past Half One.

Then I watched him disappear
through the gate, down the hill.
His usual route.

Two o’clock now
“Where can he be?”
Out there, somewhere
so cold, dark, windy.

Around the porch
autumn leaves flutter
My hands are trembling
when under a dying potted plantpast half one, It’s Past Half One
I discover a letter!

1 Comment
  1. Jerry Bolton says

    Oooh! You got me. I was caught up in the very well-written piece of poetical sadness and was quite unprepared for “The Letter.” Very well done. I like to shock and awe my readers on occasion also, not so much now as I used to. thank you for the prompt to bring me over here, do it again . . .

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