Each dawn she was, a shadow of him, hunched, faltering, pale
The sympathetic eyes watched, hands twitching all thinking
“Is it but our fate, but our destiny to be the same?”
Nobody moved and time inhaled as we sat waiting, not seeing
In the rain and the wind she clung to him, oranges in her hands
Fingers knotted, gnarled and tired, a parody of herself
Witchlike and silent but eyes deep and lined as olive groves
In the desert heat shrouded in black she stood twisted and withered
Her tiny frame could melt to white bones adorned in holy beads
Her hand on his they stand together a corpse bride and groom
A twisted mocking of their fate and we watch and we turn away
And today in the frosty chill of gloves and boots and scarves
Our faces turned to the charcoal ocean, nobody spoke
Did they see that the shadow was gone, slipped into somewhere.
She just wasn’t there anymore.