Midnight, pitch-black and unfairly cold. Snow falling softly on the bridge. Standing there, an elderly couple clutches something - papers? a bouquet? - in their four hands. Click. Hiss. A flame. The two stand, entranced. The fire roars and falls. briefly illuminating the two. Poof. As one, they let the flames go. Darkness again.
I turn and walk away. They didn't see me...they didn't see anything but their loss. I don't look back. This moment was never mine.
Are you, by any chance, a poet? :)
ReplyDelete