PenWomanShip

I sit alone on the same bench
you shared with me
those many afternoons
that ended only a week ago

around me a cool wind
picks up crisp brown leaves
and traces their dry edges
across the stone floor
in hoarse whispers

I close my eyes
straining to recreate
your presence
but the wind whips the moisture
from the corners of my eyes
forcing them open

I blink wetly
at the empty plaza
and a single tree
waving its empty branches at the wind
with the abandon of one already
stripped and careless
and completely alone