Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, USA
I think that she thinks that I want little to do with her. And perhaps she thinks that I think (and rightly so) that she wants little to do with me. So now we exchange infrequent emails. Never a call.
A scene from a lousy romantic comedy includes a sage friend telling the protagonist that in relationships, "There's a window in time when any two people can get together. But after that window closes . . . Nothing." I wonder.
If timing is everything, what then of this longing. Could poor timing become a success? Perfect timing a disaster?
Moments filled with opportunity do return anew. The phone rings. So what will it be?
her last caress—
of blowing leaves