Swimming After Work

For many years, I convinced myself I didn’t care. He wasn’t important. My challenge was forgetting.

My hand shakes as I pour tea. Outside the window, youngsters shriek for joy on the strand.

The touch of sea breeze kicks me mule hard. Memory sears bright. Waiting at the door in my one piece. My father taking me swimming after work. Strong hands. Jumping from dangerously high shoulders. Together time, undeniable.

The girl at the market confided her own estrangement, a reconciliation. Life is indeed short.

Dead men don’t tell tales. Crushing chains of regret, of loss, rattle across my heart.

Picture is copyright by Christopher A. Dominic.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s