Hallways

Hallways

Through windowless corridors
The lady with stiletto heels and veil steps,
The snap of her footsteps
Echoing in the narrow spaces.

She stops at one picture of a family of four
With a grinning dog,
Looks at the woman she was,
Shakes her head, and mutters,
“What was I thinking?”

She pulls a fresh long-stemmed rose
From the vase on the little stand
At the juncture of corridors
And de-thorns it,
Shortens the stem,
And puts the rose in her hair
By her ear.

She’s done. There’s a lot more to see
But she remembers most of it,
And it makes her shake her head again.

At the door
She says to her assistant,
“Demolish it, then sell the property
As quickly as you can.”
She holds up a hand
To the sputtering protest
And says coldly and firmly,
“Do it.”

In the town car she tells the driver
To take her to the airport.
Then slides a tear.
“Changed my mind. Take me
To the cemetery.”

Graveside
She places the rose gently
At the foot of her man’s headstone
And whispers,
“See you soon.”

Back in the car
She says, “Airport now.
How is your family, Edward?”

This poem first appeared in slightly altered form in the Facebook poetry group Poets All Call.