Footsteps echo hollow in
Whispers passed here.
Kisses stolen pressed against counter
while little prying eyes
closed for night’s slumber.
Same counter where champagne flutes were filled
toasting bright promise of a new year.
Marbled tile, shining.
Matching minimal fixtures.
Cold. Metal. Shiny. Empty.
Where the paper left.
What’s mine is hers.
What’s hers is hers.
I always hated this counter.
I wrote this in response to last week’s poetry prompt for The Reverie Journal about a change. For some reason, when I pictured a change it was more of a negative. Instead of a beautiful Spring day, I thought of divorce. Bright and cheery one, aren’t I?
Also, in honor of Poetry Month, I’m doing a different giveaway each week on GoodReads. That’s four chances to win a copy of my poetry collection, The Shaping of an “Angry” Black Woman. I’ve made it easy by putting a link in the column there. Have a click and give it a go! Ya never know .
Let me know what you think in the comments below.