Evening's Spirit

For the letter contest.

Evening's Spirit

by Erin L George

 

Evening's spirit chills, waiting for him to call.

She shrugs, pouring thoughts of other things

down her mind, like coffee - taken black.

No cream nor sugar can sweeten the taste

of knowing he's driving home high, again.

What's the rush? He hides, but doesn't realize

she can't look forever. She can't wait forever.

Eternity is calling and evening's getting stale.

Cold cases, cold cream. Her eyes are scarlett -

his the same. By now, he's either wrapped round

a tree or fast asleep, forgetting to call.

Her thumb prints linger on the receiver.

Investigative mystery, I.D. She knows regret

settles harder at night, like the calories she avoids.

Late night snacking on thoughts of him,

knowing he hasn't bothered to think of her.

Evening's spirit molds like goulash -

American Chop Suey - by another name:

either way, the same. And she's allergic

to Pennicillin. His scent tickles her nose

if only on memory. He asked her once

if she was ticklish. Wishing he'd tickle her ears

with a different sort of call. A call at all: Telling her,

another evening,

clear.

Reviews

[Periac]

time to move on

[Jen]

Wow. Very nice. Very precise picture you paint here. Thank you for sharing.

[J. C. Koch]

I like it, its almost got a tangible sense of sadness to it :)

[Hollywood]

This is a very interesting poem. I really enjoyed it.

[Tara♥Undefined&h..]

I like this but between bothered and think you should say "to" it was a really good poem good job

[Ross Saunders]

Not bad. You got a lot of good stuff in this particular poem.

[Mary]

very nice, a great write:)

[Taylor H.]

this was interesting and beautiful