BED AND BREAKFAST

A young woman returns to an old bed and breakfast after having heard that an ex-lover has died.

It still stands at the edge of the bay,

that quaint two-story, enveloped in

 

clapboards and a wraparound porch upon which

a pair of  white-washed rockers are perched -

 

exposed to the sun so long now that

the paint peels upwards into soft curls,

 

thin and delicate enough to succumb

to my once bated breath.

 

We were here once, you and I,

of this I am certain, for

everything seems so familiar now.

 

The cool air, which carried your scent,

still lingers, a reminder to

myself of the day we met.

 

and so I breathe it in �"

deeply

 

as the rockers creak on their hinges,

creating a perfect harmony with 

the timbre of the rusted wind chime

 

and I smile at the thought of

you hanging it from the ceiling, even though

we both knew that you had no right to.

 

but you believed it to be yours

as I was…

 

its exterior walls �" my fragile body,

its gutted interior �" my empty soul

 

and now I watch as kudzu and privet, intended

to protect its shabby frame, now

 

engulf it, as you once did my

entire being.

 

 

 

.