Two Owls
I thought I threw it all away.
Back then I did not want to be reminded of our days. But the rain has been coming cold And the moisture caused That little under-eaves storage door To swell and bend, so staying annoyingly Ajar, creaking.
When I tried to fix it into place, I saw it: The lost life, all tucked away in a hurry.
'At least I washed the dishes first', I smirked, Looking at the plastic bags with plates, And cups; kitchen utensils, and whatnot; One tends to forget these things When the world is swirling Outside the bed's Embrace.
There were dumbbells, And dust dangling spider silks, And all the books I used study, Thinking I could become someone Else.
Then, the two owl cups: A regular sized tea cup And a large coffee mug.
Same style.
Once, a gift. A gesture.
Two owls, Signaling the coming Of many more shared days.
Look at them, Still sitting next to each other. Still shining Amid all the dust ridden.
Our cups.
I leave them untouched.
Crawl back into my bedroom.
The rain stopped.
--- 6-5-2026, M.A. Tempels ©
