Still Life

There was a bowl of winter strawberries

A shiny silver bowl with sugar crystals bathing it in glitter

I don’t have a sweet tooth, I said

It was a day like any other

And your smile, the same I’d felt a hundred times before

What I would give to touch it once again

To know the brush of your hand as you asked me to “just wait.”

I wait here still

Next to this bowl of sweet winter fruit

Beenish