Why not ?

Samedi matin, les rues pleurent.

À vrai dire, je pleure aussi.

Je tente d’effacer les preuves de la veille,

Ces preuves qui me rappellent que rien n’est éternel.

J’avance à pas rompu dans ce boulevard qui se réveille,

Me demandant, je lève la tête :

« Les nuages sont-ils témoins de ce que vomit la Seine ? »

Puis soudain, je me rappelle;

I had a teacher I used to eat lunch with every day in middle school. He loved to hear stories about my day and my adventures (and shenanigans). He died when I was 15, on one of his adventures he loved so much.

I’ve told him through the wind that I’m going to live my life, so that someday, years and years from now, when I see him again in heaven we can have lunch together and I can tell him about all my adventures.

  – Guest Submission

💛

sea story; el matador beach, california