What Came After...

 He drops the ring on the table.
It clatters a bit, then falls silent.
His eyes meet hers with steady intensity.
They were to marry today.

The relentless rain slackens to drizzle.
They turn away from each other.
He's at the window. She's at the stove.
The clouds part, and a silent sun begins to shine.

Neither one knows what to do now.
They came close to speaking vows.
They stopped before they were bound by law.
And now, they ponder their future.

A shaft of sunlight illumines his slack face.
A kitten curls up in a cushioned chair.
The man reaches out to his woman.
She looks away, indifferent to his need.

They didn't know it would end like this,
when first they met.
The days then were bright with laughter.
They had plans for union and a home.

Somewhere it went wrong.
Some when they lost hope, and laughter stopped.
Sometimes they didn't speak.
Some days the silence overwhelmed.

She takes a suitcase from the hallway closet.
He watches her climb the stairs.
A door slams. He jumps in surprise.
The sunlight mocks his tears.

©Ellen Pepper 2026

Sunlight Has No Sound

 Sunlight has no sound.
Thunder booms, it rumbles, it claps.
Wind  howls, it whistles, it gusts, it's a zephyr.
Rain has varied tones and strength.
Sunlight and falling snow sound not.

His weary mind leans on the window wet with rain.
He's filled with dismay already, but
the afternoon's apathy has not yet set in.
The gold ring's in his back pocket.

The woman studies him from her chair.
She questions his faraway gaze.
There's no point in asking.
He doesn't know what goes on in his mind.

The rain speckles the glass.
He wipes his hand across the pane.
He sighs. 
Time passes gently.
The grass  is sparkling with sky teers.

She heads upstairs to bathe and dress.
Today's the day they'll marry.
The judge awaits their arrival.
They're late, and may not show.

The man stands at the door.
He says nothing about the time.
She finally slips into shoes.
They head out in the sad rain.

To the courthouse, they come sodden and dismal.
The judge starts the ceremony, reluctant in  tone.
Their eyes meet as vows are to be taken, and...
they turn to leave, without speaking.

The judge sighs and closes his book.
They venture home,
 unmarried.
The rain continues to fall relentlessly.
The man returns to gazing out the window.

Sunlight has no sound.
Thunder booms, it rumbles, it claps.
Wind howls, it whistles, it gusts, it's a zephyr.
He drops the ring on a table.
Sunlight and falling snow sound not.

©Ellen Pepper 2026