An old woman
gray streaks her hair
rocking on the porch
day after day
waiting for one who never comes
waiting for someone
who she loves
waiting
waiting
waiting
for her happy ending
and boots.
heavy
heavy boots
splashing in the puddles.
still she sits,
as the people clear from the streets
she rocks still
She waits still.
It will come.
It will come soon.
Yelling from behind
the bend in the road.
A language she does not understand
although the map says she is supposed to.
Where?
Where is it?
The street is silent,
save for the creaking of her porch
as she rocks
back
and forth.
back
and forth.
she finally got the happy ending
she was waiting for
though she’s lying on the floor,
A smile at last graces her thin lips.
Without heartbeat,
She is happy.
She is happy somewhere.