And so what shall we say
here at the end of day,
Here at the cold of fiery dusk
Before extending our feet
and hands
toward the hearty
crackling hearth?
The fire that blazes there
used to be
between
us
but has cooled
like the surface of
the moon,
and seems to have
fallen
down a crater
of its own making.
And so what shall we say?
‘Goodbye’ seems too trite.
‘Farewell’ is too polite.
And ‘so long’ has become
‘too long.’
Perhaps we shouldn’t say
anything.
And kiss.
© Alfred W. Smith Jr. 2015
Beyond Panic 
Sometimes, nothing is the best thing to say. Nicely done Alfred.
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Thank you! I felt I was doing too much gloom and doom on love; going into winter really darkens my mood…
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Never be afraid of the dark, my friend. Some of my best pieces have emerged from very dark and deep places.
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I know, my friend. I’ve read a few, and you can feel them… Not so much afraid of going there, but it was beginning to alter my own mood, and around this time of year when it gets dark early, I’m one of those people who really hate it. I can function, but I hate it, so I wrote something to kind of pull me out of the spiral, before I wind up writing about chopping up aliens from outer space and using them for firewood… (hmmmm, there’s an idea 🙂 I wrote two more Soyala pieces yesterday. They’re a bit longer than my normal stories for her, but I’ll be posting them here. She’s probably the most complex of all my characters, because neither of us is quite sure what she is, exactly. I’ll probably give her a short anthology of her own (is that an oxymoron: short anthology?) The fun is in the exploring, I guess. Thanks Darren. I’ll be reading.
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