He put the pack upon his back
to begin a journey.
He’d never be back.
Enamored by potential,
and driven by grief.
On the dirt with the beetles -
creamed corn and beef.
The ground barely shook,
as he climbed up hillside.
It’d rain, sleet and thunder -
He maintained his stride.
Until she crossed his path,
destination less clear,
and you could bet all your fortune
he stayed for a year.
She taught him of tea tree,
the joy in a tithe,
and he grew a new glisten in his once downturned eyes.
On the wrong side disheveled bed,
what was actually the right,
he grew fearful of her,
and left in the night.
She awoke and reached out for the morning embrace,
when her brow bone grew wrinkled at the loss of his face.
The sheets were smoothed neatly,
coffee brewed just the same,
but she started using creamer
and choked on his name.