The unseen journey in their hands….

Walking side by side, hand in hand they enjoy the world together once more like they did all those years before. From the outside, it appears as if these frail beings hold one another for the physical support. It’s only with their eyes can they see that time and patience has preserved love that saw sparks ignite in the hours of midnight. Truly he cannot relinguish his grip from hers, fearing that the beauty which once cradled his grieving chest would leave foot steps echoing in an empty hallway. The fear triggers a familiar sense of self afflicted lonliness governed by his self desire for a touch, a squeeze and money in the night breeze. *CLINK* *CLINK* The sound of  fluid running through the pipes and releasing itself onto a stained coffee cup. Dinner for one…again.

His heart hastily retreats from the projections of solitude in his mind. The feeling of misery, despair and worthlessness fade as he is transfixed upon the grooves on her brow line. How life has aged her beautifully. She misses a step and stumbles. He holds her tighter and extends his free arm offering his protection…..

……she accepts the invitation with care only to recall a time when a turning of a key exposed months of infidelity in one sitting. “My mistake was not loving you” she said. With that she turned around and clung onto her jacket even tighter to protect herself from the bitter chill of a winters morinig and to stablise her balance as she left her foot steps rippling through the wooden floor, resonationg through the streaked walls. A flash and the scene is illuminated with auburn hues reflecting her favourite season in a circular dining hall. He pulls back her chair and signals for her to take her seat. She sits. He places his hands on her shoulder and gently whispers words of compassion only to be heard by her. A flash and she is gazing at his slightly discoloured dentures and thinning lips and hears “I won’t let go if you don’t”. She smiles knowing that the pain which was, will never be. Straightenening her posture, she allows him to wrap his chapped hands around hers as they continue to conversate. Others look on with confusion not knowing that the intertwining hands were built and strengthened by hearts which were willing to accept life and press past the crooked steps.

My Inspiration… old couple

My topic…..lasting love

My opinion….stated


Published by Surafi KB

Jesus, Jazz & Coffee

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