As my eyes open to the grey stocktake of another morning, I wonder “Is it all still true?”. It’s not really hope but it still hurts when it goes away.
I tell myself that I understand the facts. I drum the story like fingers on a desk. But even in the face of loss, only one day passes at a time like the sound of idle fingers in shivered air.
I know it’s ridiculous but I saw you all through the shops today. You were waiting for your receipt in a blue shirt – a little different to your usual style. You were choosing mushrooms, bent to the task, your hair a little too grey as it fell forward from your shoulder and grazed your cheek. You were sitting in a cafe waiting, legs crossed in three quarter length pants, a sudden haircut to surprise me with. Your mouth wasn’t as happy as I remember and your nose was too aquiline but I still almost heard you say “helloooooo” in that long way you had.
I shook my head and pushed out into the sun.
On the garage roof raindrops begin their stamping time's uneven footprints
Written for Go Dog Go Cafe Haibun Wednesday