Our Rading Reflections

You could trace his life out by the lines in his face, Most paths ending abruptly, or is that how they started? The greatest flux of stories traced out around his eyes, with a stained yellow beauty and bloodshot lines of their own. The faded, hollow holes he witnessed me with glistened, he knew the question, but not the answer.

When he spoke his voice crackled like a great fire, like something was forever stuck in his throat. “It goes left foot, then right foot, and your body just follows. I never intended to be here, but I didn’t have the courage to say goodbye.” His grey, wrinkled hand, picked up the glass of ale, shaking the liquid uncontrollably with his bent arthritic fingers.

Nothing was said, the silence we sat in was the truth he had told. I finished my glass and placed it on the box she lay in, and vowed to myself that I would not make the same mistake. A different path lay ahead, with it’s own abrupt ending. Stepping out into the world, I closed the door firmly behind, And I walked until the dark night engulfed me.