The truth of a weatherman

On Wednesday,

it drizzled greyly all afternoon

instead of sun filled broken promises

of the weatherman at 6pm yesterday.

Your bags were half-packed

long before you left

haphazard piles on the foot of the bed

with my random black sock

that you really didn’t mean to keep

tucked in alongside

the T-shirt that matches mine

that you never really liked anyway.

I stepped in a puddle

helping you carry the bags to your car

sockless toes growing colder

as I stood in my wet shoes,

smiled, and waved goodbye.

Advertisements