By Dave Matthew Jordan
Seven times we drove to Des Moines. Your head would lean against the window while your breath clouded the glass, hazing out the empty roadside and the figured ghosts of silver maples poking up at the winter sky. Your cherry-red scarf was the only piece of color in that scene.
The eighth time I returned to Des Moines, I wore my black suit and tie. The clouds dulled the blond ribbon of the sun. My trembling hand clutched the crumpled scarf on the car seat next to me. If thinking things made them so, your hand would have been in mine.
Wonderful imagery. Poignant and beautiful.
Thank you!
Very sad. You developed the trajectory beautifully.
Thank you!
I agree. Nice work of imagery.
Thank you!
Beautiful and poignant.
Simply. Beautiful.
Wow. This moved me to tears. Well done!