LITERARY: " Red Scarf ” By: Lorraine D. Villete

Sunday, February 13, 2022

There was no such thing as what they called, "Red String of Fate."

With somber eyes, gazing out the gloomy outdoors;

When was the last time it wasn't raining?

Perhaps heavens felt my sorrow that they sobbed for me;

A woman who had lost it all,

Here now, in this old, abandoned cabin—

Alone.

Would they say she was lucky to live,

Or would they pity her for the deceased man she outlived?

With small squeaks from the wooden floor;

Out she was gone, not an umbrella or anything with her.

Just out she was gone, bathed in the soft tears from above.

Small children from afar, the polar opposite to her situation;

Both laughed as they bathed in the rain;

No weather could ever be gloomy as long as you made it through somehow, right?

In the field of the glowing campanulas, they ran—

Reaching the old, oak tree for shelter.

Though distant giggled, the woman could still hear their delight;

One's she wished to have once again.

What lovely children—eyes filled with swarming adoration for each other.

"That used to be us."

Finally, she spoke with a hint of raspiness.

Cracked, cold headstone on the ground;

Met with eyes that could pierce through it as it taunted them with the engraved initials;

Initials of he who was no longer to be spoken of.

As the clap of thunder barely startled the grieving lady,

Hooked her finger on the loop side of the scarf, then wrapped so religiously around her neck;

The last bit she'd ever have of him,

Not last words or anything—just a scarf.

"I don't believe this."

Red scarf—from him to her.

And as if by cue, it began pouring.

"Once upon a time."

If we had chosen otherwise;

We could've been those children again.

But our story ended,

When we chose to be silent;

To love one another, but to never know.

Photo Source: Painting: The Women of Skagen by Michael Ancher (1849-1927)

Published By: Julianne Rose M. Laureano

Date Published: February 13, 2022

Time Published: 6:50 pm