and you’re out—dodging toddlers on bikes,
worried to think you could sidestep
into the pond, become the talk of the park.
But sun possesses the café and maybe a friend
will be there outside—a table to herself,
an open book and a smile,
someone so happy to see you back
from years of muddle and rain,
there for the easy spill of her mind—
maybe she’ll nudge you a pain au chocolat
from her plate, fingertips painted
lilac as plums, maybe she’ll lift
the hair from your face, like before—
and you feel the sun on your skin, the pulse
of a marching band in your chest. People
clapping along. Picture your dancing feet
weaving that way and this, her beating time
with her fists, both of you up on a bench
whooping it to the gods.
July 31, 2025 [Issue 46]
Grey Sparrow Journal 