Anniversary Nigel Kent

Nigel Kent

I said he could have anything for our anniversary; he asked for space.

I grudgingly agreed, believing when stretched we’d snap back together, closer than before,

but the gap kept growing filling with drifts of bitterness much too treacherous to navigate

and the thaw I waited for did not come: there were no warm words to melt the silence,

no spring flowers to mark his return, and hope stayed low on the horizon refusing to rise.

Yet still I find myself in the kitchen listening for his key turning in the door, and making enough tea for two.