The Night She Didn’t Come Home

Perfect Dinner

The night she didn’t come home
He had made her a perfect dinner
He had rehearsed his apology over and over
He was going to make it right

Her favorite food
Her favorite wine
Ready at the time she would normally be home
Watching the time
Waiting

He knew he had been wrong
So he texted her
That he had a surprise for her when she got home

But that night she didn’t come home
She never came home again
By the time the state patrolman knocked on the door
He was beside himself with worry
Then, with grief

The night she didn’t come home
He had made her a perfect dinner
But nobody ever ate it
Nor drank the wine
Nor heard the apology

And the last angry words
He had said to her
Still ring in his head
Where the wind sweeps restlessly
Beside her silent grave

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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