Mourning Jay

 

Mourning Jay

I can still see her sitting on the edge of the dance floor

of another gala evening. Adorned in red and white, she pulled

men’s gaze like the first cardinal of spring. A wallflower

that could not be ignored as she looked around the room at nothing. 

He never failed to invite her, something I didn’t understand

at the time. For me she was a familiar connection, a batch

of mom’s cookies or a copy of the hometown paper.

For him, she was door that closed when left unattended. 

The parties were not to be missed, all the wealthiest of Eggs

in attendance. He however, rarely if ever showed his face. 

The opulence and excess were for her, while he pined

the night away locked in his room of regrets and second guesses. 

I think of him now, not as the shadowed figure staring across the bay,

nor the limp body floating face down in a pool of blood

and mistaken identity. I only recall the gentle conversations

we had as two men seeking our place and hoping to find our loves.

SMG

Writing Prompt from d'Verse Poets Pub

https://dversepoets.com/#:~:text=https%3A//dversepoets.com