The New Story

It was late September when he looked up with
Those beautiful saucer eyes of his
Tugging on her sleeve
She smiled & sat down to share
One of his favorite stories
But all she could find was darkness
The blackness of a hole there
The words fell out silent
Spilled out all blank

Her brain ached with the effort
Sharp pain of emptiness
The sides sucked in upon themselves
At the query
Even the failsafe failed
Not only had all his stories disappeared
But so had all of hers
The cold of late December
Painted her face in bright red blush

There were the shelves
She could see them
through the snow
Outlines in the dust
Where the ancient books of memory
should have been
All barren
Lonely
Stolen

In the void
she had to stutter something - anything - out
Quickly now
He’s waiting
The retelling of someone else’s story
Only half-remembered?
Or observations of the then & there
The here & now?
Sweet smell of April drifting near
The color of life shining out
From those saucer eyes of his

She paused.
She chose.

And the words flowed out so liquid smooth
Full & rich
A new story
Caressing his ears
Tickling her lips
Refreshing drops
Of July rain
Overflowing the cups
Filling up the saucers