Fleeting Echo
Each heart must come to terms that love can vanish swiftly, like a wisp of smoke slipping through shadows, old whispered secrets carried away by the wind, the plan that once anchored you and a future, now adrift, the tire spinning on mud, making a purposeless mess, the bed where passion once lay, now cold, the walls that echoed with laughter, now silent, the room where memories danced, now empty.
Our needs, delicate as glass, rest upon shifting sands, and any unforeseen cause no matter how distant can unravel the fabric of our lives. A boy’s breath extinguished in the middle east, or a blizzard’s icy grip on the east coast, both wield the power to undo us.
Picture it: cups and china crashing, shattering down on the kitchen floor, while you stand there, bewildered, in the epicenter of chaos. She then enters, eyes wide with concern, and asks, “What’s wrong?” And your reply echoes, “I wish I knew, my love, I wish I knew…”