The Last Drive

A woman aged well with life and years

Travels an unwanted journey along a highway

There’s not much to bring her home to this past

Raw, physical reminders of a life no more



She looks out across the fields bordering the road

Her last trip along this asphalt found the ground covered in crop

White cotton giving the façade of a fresh fallen snow

Now only with mounds of dirt scattered with stems and leaves



She passes a creek slowly streaming along her path

Her child’s laughter once echoed off of the surface

A time of play within its warm summer water

Over years its course narrowed by fallen limbs and overgrown roots



She passes a man walking across the lawn of one of many homes peppering the road

Hours he spent tirelessly beautifying its landscape

His steps slow and cautious—his back bent hovering over his feet

A walk to his mailbox to be his most strenuous activity



She stares at the church seen at the end of the road

A wooden building set before a path of stone and dirt

Through mature eyes it is but a small one room building

Yet through her youthful eyes she had envisioned it a cathedral



She walks through the doors

Along carpet no longer plush from years of footsteps

No notice is given to the expression upon the faces of those watching

She stares only at the shine of the wooden box



She reaches into her pocket to hold the crumbled letter

Her hands shaking as they had done each and every time she had read it

Lightly she kisses the paper holding the last words she would ever hear

A tear falls from her eye to dampen the paper held against her cheek



The church nothing but a speck in a rearview’s mirror

The feeble man sits on his porch next to the woman who had shared his life

The creek’s water ripples as children skip stones across it surface

An irrigation system sprinkles across the field in preparation of a new crop

The road before her aged well with life and years now a new journey to be had


A love…everlasting.

cdcain, 11/2016


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