It’s morning in the park. The weak, winter sun hangs in a tarnished sky. I walk my dog across the frozen fields. The scene glimmers in fragments.
A glazed-over jar with red votive candles rests against the base of an old maple tree. Red carnations mingled with white baby’s breath scattered about, stomped on, trampled, torn apart. Bits and pieces of broken promises, shattered dreams.
Bloody splashes dot the snow, but they lead nowhere. I wander the area seeking an answer, finding nothing.
One crimson maple leaf clings to its black branch, the lone witness refusing to let go.
Ron Theel is a freelance writer, mixed media artist, and photographer living in Syracuse, New York. His writing and/or artwork has appeared in “The RavensPerch,” “Midway,” “Open: Journal of Arts & Letters,” “Beyond Words,” as well as other places.
