David - written in pencil

David was the most real love almost met.  

She imagined hair like his father’s, 

eyes the same shade.

His becoming meant the deepest happiness. 

She wrote all about it with a pencil, just in case. 

She didn’t know why — or maybe she did.

Then came the silence — the deepest ache — the kind that empties a room.

The husband carried it heavy in his eyes. She carried his silence as if it were hers to mend.

The absence was marked with offerings:

a letter,

a harp,

the echo of a melody never meant to be played in full.

He came into her life just a lifetime too short.