Murmured Endearments

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A sweet little sacrifice.

Submitted: July 13, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 13, 2018



Murmured Endearments


A soft breeze runs its fingers through the grass and the leaves on the trees.

From a distance the column of water curves in the sky,

pouring from clouds swirling milky white at the top, but stretching dark toward the earth.

Beneath it a man walks

down the sidewalk from house to house. 

The rain falls at an angle, wetting the man’s sleeves and chilling him,

reddening his nose and fingertips.

He reaches into the bag at his side and pulls out a square of thick, cream colored paper,

careful to shield it from the rain with his body.

It is a letter. 

Folded from a single sheet, the recipient’s name written curving across the surface,

it gives the man holding it a certain melancholy feeling.

He steps over small rivulets on the concrete,

carrying clods of soil from a garden growing rosemary and thyme.

Something about the rain and the faint smell of perfume makes him think

of whispered promises and murmured endearments,

of half-closed blinds and strips of light bending over arms entangled in embrace.

Of the way breaths caress the skin. 

A drop of water splatters on the surface of the paper

between the man’s fingers so he presses the letter close, holding it against his stomach.

Somewhere down the street a dog barks

as he turns a corner around a low fence, the wood streaked with damp.

The man blinks

and drops of water that had been clinging to his eyelashes fall to the ground,

twinkling in the light from the windows of the house up ahead.

He ducks slightly when he reaches the polished wooden door, lifting the flap of the mail slot.

The metal hinges sigh

and the mailman pushes the love letter through.

He counts to ten as he walks back down the steps, then opens the bag at his side once more. 

His shoes push the away the water beneath them, but some drops cling to the tops.

He makes his way to the next house,

and the next.

The rain falls from the clouds to the earth,

and flowers in gardens along the way

bend and tremble under the weight of it. 

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