The illusion has ended,

the picture now feels incomplete.
You are gone and now,

all I have are memories that
are faded and tattered at the edges
like a weathered novel.

When I stare at the photos,
filled with your smiling face,
I wonder why it has to be this way.

It’s still hard for me
to accept the fact that you’re gone
To accept that I won’t step into the kitchen
And see you sitting at the worn oak tableLynne Halladay
Creative Writing

The Table

The illusion has ended
The picture now feels incomplete
You are gone and now
All I have are memories that
Are faded and tattered at the edges
Like a weathered novel.

when I stare at the photos,
Filled with your smiling face,
I wonder why it has to be this way.

It’s still hard for me
To accept the fact that you’re gone,
to accept that I won’t step into the kitchen
And see you sitting at the worn oak table,

a cup of hot tea held in your hand

As I open myself up to you,
Like a flower unraveling in sunlight .

It seems like yesterday
I was sitting at that same table
with a matching cup of steaming tea.
That table is where I met you,
not your just your body
but also your soul

At that table we would talk endlessly
As the sky slowly changed from night to day.
Now that table is in storage,
Slowly gathering dust, turning grey
and all that remains are
The memories that play
on a slow loop inside my head.