The locusts chirped and the robins trilled.
The smell of a fresh world enveloped me.
The brick path was damp, and as I walked,
My footprints were left behind.
Like the footprints of a ghost
For you to find;
The footprints of dead love.
I blinked, the sun was bright.
I ran my hand across the rough surface
Of a crisp, white picket fence
And when my eye caught the mailbox,
I stopped short- it made no sense.
The name painted in gold letters on the side
The letters, they didn't lie...
It was your house.
You. Of all people. After all these years.
Impossible.
And yet, the burning dew was old tears.
And the shadows under the trees were old fears.
I didn't dare walk through the gate,
Yet I did.
I didn't dare stroll up the walk,
Yet I did.
I didn't dare step on your porch,
Yet I did.
I stood there, my breaths unsteady.
My heart beat quick, but it was heavy.
I could knock, and you might come to the door, and...
...But, you had her.
My foolish mistake resulted in you loving her.
I was wrong, I admit.
You hadn't done it.
And you told me.
But I didn't want to believe you.
I had to be right.
I thought I always was.
So you gave up.
Found someone who would believe you.
And what was I to do?
Find out you were right and I was wrong
Oh, if I'd only known it all along,
Life might have been full of wonders
Surprise, delight, and excitement for us.
You always spoke of such things.
I found the way you spoke fascinating.
Believable.
If only I'd believed more then such romantic imaginings, however.
If only.
I lowered my hand.
I stared emptily at the tall, stately door in front of me.
I took a deep breath.
I turned and walked off your porch,
Down your walk,
And out of the gate.
With one last, longing glance, I resumed walking.
The sunlight dried my silent tears.
And my footprints gradually disappeared.