MORNING COFFEE 33 - driftwood

By Susan Weber

I stand on the outside of conversations now. I don’t know what to do with what somebody’s dog got into or who won the game last night. Talk about the future is a nonstarter too. How does one live a life after death of promise? I had the best partner destiny could give me. Now I have his memory and a tide of tears. People say I’m brave. I’m no more brave than driftwood sunk in the changeable sand. Life’s been harsh and now my hollow hulk lives to tell the tale. Here in my writing room, birdsong chortles from beyond the screen. Spring plans her cunning banishment of sorrow. I’m not keen on her distractions. I’ve become half a person in the blink of an eye. Even less. The bigger half by far has flown the coop.

Public Domain photo by Adrian Pingstone