He came here every day.
That secluded park where friendship blossomed into something else.
That lonely pew where fidelity was pledged.
He held his memories as sacred treasure
Under the spectral moonlight.
The landscape now as parched as is vitality
This would be his last call.
They'd shared their final libation.
He committed the cruet to the ground as a manifestation of what was.
A legacy of days passed.
Silently, he shuffled up the trail
With hopes to join her again.
Eyes closed, focused on the road untraveled.
I have no time anymore
Audrie is a writer and editor living in Illinois. She is a fan of all things horror and pop culture.