My Porch (cont'd 2)
With the angel shedding tears on the other end of the airway, I break down in the grass. Hitting the ground I feel a chill go up my spine. Not from the grass that still dampens my jeans from the rain not long passed. Not from the cold that night brings in the summer. But from knowing that there is nothing I can say to make her feel any better.
Trying to think of the verbal equivalent of a hug, I fall silent. The only thing I can think of doesn’t make sense just yet and so I continue to say I’m sorry mistakes that are not my own and for things that no one could ever know would take place.
Hours pass and she needs her rest. A thanks, your welcome, and goodnight and that’s it. The line to sweet heaven goes dead and I re-enter my home. Now, sitting in front of a screen documenting our time to my highest poetic ability, it all seems so perfect.