The Runners

 

RDP Sunday — SOMETHING

He dug up every letter,  faded concert ticket and a carefully folded panty from that magical night when he turned 19 and  she spent that first night with him

and ran back to her.

She  wrote a poem and signed it with a little picture she doodled with a shaky hand of her cradling her naked breasts

and she opined

that they were

Forever soulmates, let’s run away to Italy and you can eat my pasta while I listen to you play guitar in the moonlight under my window

and with this song of love in  hand she ran towards him crying in ecstasy with each step she took.

 

By the time they met, in that enchanted place they would call home

40 years had flown by without them

and the Grim Reaper was there too

at their housewarming

singing a song under their window with a scythe in one hand and a pair of panties and a handful of poems written in a shaky hand in the other.

 

Before he knocked the Reaper wondered

as he sometimes did

if these fragile souls needed something to live for

why some of them settled for something that wasn’t there

when there was so much around them

that

was.

 

 

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