I remember looking up
when the lock shattered,
watching the tree dropping its leaves,
and I felt disappointment,
and as naked as its branches.
That tree had kept our secrets,
and I think I may have thought that
somehow we would have been hidden now,
from prying eyes and a looming winter.
But the winds had come, and he had gone,
and I found myself in the open, lonely and alone,
breaking bits of memories into my hands
and walking the abandoned road,
until I sat in the spot where
we paid our toll and had been granted passage,
and I waited for winter to come again.
© Nicole Lyons 2017