“Some Days are Better than Others”

Every day he sits by the window, partially
hidden by dusty venetian blinds,
watching the neighbours rouse, going off
on their day. He has nowhere to be, smoking
cigarettes to their filter, and the coffee
is always bitter. He owns a scrim of fine art
that holds little value anymore.

His only thoughts are on a small graveyard around
the corner. Obsessed with death (the departure),
he thinks about those gone, and if they had
seen a light when leaving the world.

He searches morning papers for obituaries:

“Beloved wife, Gladys Moore dies at 65,
survived by her spouse, Anthony,
an insurance salesman at Met
Life. Services will be held at Wedgewood
Crematory, March 4 and 5 at 3:00 p.m.
(Bring some flowers, please.)”

“No, children?” he says to no-one.

He remembers Gladys — how they played
at the park on summer days, waiting for
storms to come in as the skies formed dark
bruises; excited they’d laugh. She was
pretty with auburn hair — a special
curl falling on her cheek, always in the same
fashion … as if she placed it there for him.

He lays down the newspaper, resting his
bifocals on the edge of disenchantment,
takes a nap, dreams of eulogies.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Tara Roberts challenged me with “”The Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated” – Mark Twain” and I challenged http://www.bradmack.com/ with “A dog and a cat meet Saint Frances on the River Rhine”.

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12 responses to ““Some Days are Better than Others”

  1. A very touching and sad poem, Pamela. Grief is hard; and everyone grieves in his/her own way.

  2. Mary, this was a challenge for me to write to using Mark Twain’s quote. I tried to picture this person, and how they felt. I didn’t give myself enough time on the writing aspect of it though. There is always next week.

  3. Thiis is one of your very best, Pamela – very touching, wry but not bitter.

  4. Viv, thank you. I am not that satisfied with the ending, but time was not my friend this week. I do like the fact that II will not except grammar, or punctuation errors on their posts. Therefore, it is a great exercise in improving my writing.

  5. Very melancholy. I like that you were able to convey the prompt beautifully without using the quote. Nicely done.

  6. Thanks Tara. I like where I went with this, it was a good challenge to work with.

  7. i like this very much, your words and the tiny story you tell are quite compelling. it’s a little off-putting to me that you have it in a vertical form like this; it seeme like a short prose-poem piece that might sit nicely on the page without the line breaks which feel (to me!) to be imposed on the lines. again, love love the words and image, very beautiful!

  8. My father misses my mother so, even after nearly four years now, that I often wonder if he thinks about such things. The only difference is, there are children. Thank You!

  9. Aww sad to live a life where you simply just… exist. What an image filled read. Sadly all to true for so many people, too.

  10. Yes, Bren, it is a sad reality for many. Thank you for reading this and commenting.

I appreciate all comments.

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