The call came early
one January morning,
leaving me speechless,
broken, unable to find my next step,
not believing.
The flight back was long,
loud and quiet,
made, still in a fog of disbelief,
sooner than I was prepared for,
but not soon enough to prevent it.
The hugs and tears and refusal to believe
filled the day, and night.
Seemed that was all that was left,
as sleep wouldn’t come,
and joy had long fled.
Heard the story once, twice,
more times than I wanted.
Strangers hugged and cried.
I walked, in dress and heels,
mascara running, to see for myself.
It’s the only way I could believe
he was gone.
April 29th
Prompt: Write a Sight Poem
Tori Dreamer 