She hobbles to the park bench.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
The couple, uncommonly bathed in white
Remain silent, not breaking their gaze
Into each other’s eyes.
She takes it as a yes.
“You two must be so in love.
I remember what it felt
To look that very way at my
Own beloved,”
And so she recalls, looking up
As if searching for her partner’s
Home in the heavens,
Sharing her story with strangers
As the lonely so often do,
Her voice strolling through the past.
Tears in her eyes, she pats the cold, hard
Shoulder
And thanks them for listening.
Using them to steady herself
Before hobbling into the art museum.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 4:19 AM UTC
She hobbles to the park bench.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?”
The couple, uncommonly bathed in white
Remain silent, not breaking their gaze
Into each other’s eyes.
She takes it as a yes.
“You two must be so in love.
I remember what it felt
To look that very way at my
Own beloved,”
And so she recalls, looking up
As if searching for her partner’s
Home in the heavens,
Sharing her story with strangers
As the lonely so often do,
Her voice strolling through the past.
Tears in her eyes, she pats the cold, hard
Shoulder
And thanks them for listening.
Using them to steady herself
Before hobbling into the art museum.
I picked up from my local library a writing prompt book called Write What You See: 99 Photos to Inspire Writing by Hank Kellner, and am using every photo to prompt a poem. This is number 20: a woman, presumably 70 or older, talking to two marble sculptures.
Not my best work by any means, but I felt guilty not posting anything in so long, so here we go.