Weekender

by the time you were

ready to go it was raining,

fat raindrops tumbling

like dropped pennies into

slick slate-grey puddles

across a silver pavement,

your mischievous eyes

flashed as you held a

tartan beret upside down

pretending to catch something

as if there were a prize, before

flippantly shaking it out

all interest seemingly gone,

your lithe body seemed to

float, a sculpture brought to life,

a soprano trill of laughter a

soundtrack to the downpour,

then before I realised it was goodbye,

I saw your head turn briefly

only the slightest glance, once

over your right shoulder

with neither smile nor tears

just those beautiful eyes

calmly forming the words

thank you

Published by grahamrsherwood