Baubles, bangles and beads lay jangled together on
the kitchen table. The boy gazed at the flash of
color and then out into the night sky at
the blue moon. The mother did dishes and
sang in a joyful voice, “Willow, weep
for me.” For the boy, she was the most
beautiful girl in the world.
Later, he was a priest in the tavern where
he said, “I won’t dance,” and they all
laughed and beat him body and soul.
Later, in the still of the night, he
whispered, “Let’s fall in love.”
She said, “I like the sunrise,”
and looked past the breakwater,
out to the horizon beyond
the sea.
Later, frail and failing, he
watched each morning for
that lucky old sun and
said to Doreen, the
worker, “I’m waiting
until the real thing
comes along.” Doreen
wasn’t listening,
her mind caught
in a loop of
the question:
“What’ll I
do?”
Patrick T. Reardon
9.22.2015
Photo by Magic4walls
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.