upon a lonesome road

I passed a familiar stranger

upon a lonesome road.

He slipped past my side; his load

was heavy, growing fuller with each step.

His back was bowed down with the weight

of thoughts.

He wore a robe of the grey in a storm-

full of chaos and power

yet broken and worn.

I barely noticed his face as he passed,

he left without a whispered word;

without even a glance cast.

I turned to converse,

wishing to listen to the stories I’ve heard

times and times before.

I wished to see his bundle unfold

revealing memories and stories-

wished to hear my life retold

But as I turned he was gone,

already years behind.

I run towards him,

my feet flying with an inhuman speed,

yet never growing closer.

Never near enough.

His bent figure grows smaller with each step.

I grow farther away as I draw near.

Just once I wish to touch his face

and thank him for the good times

and the bad.

For my legs are stronger now

after climbing the hills in the road.

I run faster.

Come back!

Come back, my heart cries.

But no.

Only an empty echo

returns to my longing self.

My heart pounds and I've had enough.

I’m running after the Past

and I cannot catch up

autumn (a drabble of 100 words)

Mother was never the same after that day. She sat by the window, a distant look echoing in her eyes. Sometimes tears would drift lazily down her cheeks. She watched the seasons pass, stoically.  It was all the same to her.

I would come behind her and gently brush her long auburn hair. She never stirred. Nothing moved her. She simply existed and never lived.

My heart cried, “Mother look at me! See me! Do you know I’m here?”

I laid my cheek against her head, our auburn hair flowing together. Tears moistened her hair.  She didn’t notice.

Mother, please…