Mixed Emotions


Fleeting furies of hope stick on my skin like velvet in wonderment

Meeting memories once present

Sitting on the window sill

Watching the birds feed

While I devour the grapes you picked for me

Each one juicier than the last

Until my bowl is empty

Is it significant to us

My imagination has attempted to trick me before

I hear the rain begin to pour

Pushing myself up off the bench I grab hold of the door

Letting the tears fall

Then step down


Go back to bed.


Angela K. Crandall



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