this morning #37.

this morning, she opened her eyes & looked to her right, to the hollow beside her in the bedside where once lied bright dreams of boundless travel & bold days & nights & proverbial pink picket fences. then the fences went up & lines were drawn. lines in the sand. lines of credit for her little secrets. lines below her weary eyes. corners of his pillow still held traces of his smell. the tranquil vibrations of her “majestic valley” alarm had replaced his childhood clock radio. gentle streams. she hadn’t been able to remove their last “couple’s vacation” picture frame from the end table. in the fresh, comparative emptiness of the space, there were changes & changes to make.