Our Last Walk
I sit alone on the garden bench, our bench, where you once sat. The rain has eased and the air is fresh and clean. Our tree is bare; leaves that once danced in the sun lie crumpled at my feet and carpet the path we once walked. Autumnal colours of orange, yellow, red and gold warm my heart and the pungent smell of rain-sodden leaves fills my soul.
But oh! How I miss you!
My mind accepts you’re gone and, try as I may, I can’t change it. But my heart refuses to surrender and it cries out for you.
The flowers we planted continue to bloom. Each vying with the other in their attempt to raise my spirits. The dainty white and pink of the sweet alyssum tumbling over our garden wall, secreting its saccharine scent. The aster’s starry-shaped heads in shades of blue and lavender mixing effortlessly with the vibrancy of the chrysanthemum’s rainbow florets.
But only one, the delicate camellia you tended so lovingly, has found its way through my grey, lonely existence… capturing my heart, as it did yours. Near white petals, edged in deep pink, surround a golden centre that pulls me in. And it’s then I feel you.
I can still remember… our last walk. The rain had eased and the air was fresh and clean. Our tree was bare; leaves that once danced in the sun lay crumpled at our feet carpeting the path we walked. Autumnal colours of orange, yellow, red and gold warmed our hearts and the pungent smell of rain-sodden leaves filled our souls.
We sat together on the garden bench… our bench.
And here I will sit. And here I will wait. Autumn after autumn. Until you walk with me once more.