His mouth forms a wide smirk
as the others laugh at his words.
But it isn’t funny.
She lowers her watery eyes, glasses slipping
down her nose.
Book pages flip
in the breeze that picks up.
She loses her page.
His mouth opens, sharp daggers sliding
from his lips
Their laughter echoed by the trees.
She gets up, stumbles, falls.
Lines of carefully thought-out words tumble to the ground
his foot stretched out in front of her.
Their hands reach for the pages.
Fingers wrap
Around worn bindings.
They play tug-of-war,
trying to pull it out
of each other’s grasp.
A rip.
Papers scatter in the wind.
Snickers fade with the footsteps
as her eyes rain tears.
I bend down.
Papers fill my hands
one by one.
She looks up.
The sun lights up her clouded eyes
as she takes the faded pages,
in her grasp again.
Not too proud of this one.
