Me, Café, and a Field

February 17, 2012
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We walk down the field,
She in her furry brown coat,
I in my checked one.

Café turns to me and cocks her head,
Asking why we have stopped.
But I can’t answer,
As the tears run down my face.

Café knows what will help –
She turns and pulls me onward into the field.

The January snows have melted,
Leaving a dead patch of grass and dirt.
The cold wind blows us further in.

Even though I try not to,
My thoughts turn to him, like always.
What do you do when he says he loves you one day,
And ignores you the next?

But here, now, everything seems so simple.
The cold wind blowing in my face,
And the peacefulness of being alone
Helps to clear my thoughts.

I know what I need to do.
I know that I need to run my own life.
I know that there has to be change.

The wind has dried my tears,
And this newfound calmness has stopped them
From appearing again.

I lift my face and laugh,
For the first time in days, it seems.

I tell Café, “Thank you,”
And she cocks her head at me again.
She knew, somehow that all I needed to do
Was pace this field up and down.

I go back, with hope in my heart.
It might not turn out perfect,
But it will be better.
And it all came from just
Me, Café, and a field.

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