From Between the Pickets

She waits by the fence A gentle breeze through her skirt She waits by the fence Aimlessly shifting her toes in the dirt She waits by the fence Birds overhead silently southward fly She waits by the fence Wiping tears from her eyes, God damn him, why She waits by the fence Minutes to hours, hours to day, days become a week She waits by the fence The sun slipping east, the warmth on her cheek Turning to leave, her yard, her purpose, her fence Her eyes meet the one’s that left her sometime hence The sky orangish pink with a border of robin’s egg blue No words are spoken, not certain that it is true And still the fence waits