This was written very early in the morning at a coffee shop the day after we buried my father.
---
Sitting in the wooden corner
beneath the neon light of the open sign,
my companions a Boston Creme and
steamed milk in black tea
while the radio moans
wish you were here.
I don't know why I ever expected
that we should do any more in life
than die alone.
--
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this poem, please leave a heart, and be sure to check out more of my work at my author profile! Find a list of my published short fiction by clicking here.
About the Creator
Crysta Coburn
Crysta K. Coburn has been writing award-winning stories for most of her life. She is a journalist, fiction writer, poet, playwright, editor, podcaster, and occasional lyricist. She co-hosts the popular paranormal podcast Haunted Mitten.
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Comments (1)
When my father passed away, I noticed that my perceptions became sharper, and that I could not play certain roles anymore (I was ten, but still...). This is very impressive.