Somewhere In Coventry

He wore heavy sarcasm well by that 22nd of December, a day smartly enough placed his memory as one that brought catastrophe.

He hung up the phone. While habit forced his hands slowly down his face in mock exhaustion at human interaction, his heart wasn’t in his tracing fingertips. No, his heart was somewhere in Coventry.

He paused, middle fingers still caressing his lower lip, and stared blankly. He was trying to figure it out. Most thought had brought nothing more than blindness in the recent years past, but he had figured a few things out nonetheless:

The lie was that only lust begot love, and about this he was no longer inclined to play dumb. Too many jaded years, American years, cynical years. And yet there on the phone moments before… his mind broke to heart, and heart took to hope.

He would be happy to break if it meant even a chance at happiness.

He couldn’t see Coventry… but there was, he decided, a home there – a hand to his hope.

A calm good-bye to the snide avoidance he once was, and he smiled… genuinely. Even the ghost left behind would have appreciated such stock in a long-shot home.

Yes, he told himself,
A home, maybe, somewhere in that voice,
within that voice’s heart,
that heart, somewhere, across the ocean,
a home somewhere in Coventry.

  • Jordan Busson

    Jordan Busson

    Wow, great writing!

  • Paul Compton

    Paul Compton

    I think the shorter format really makes this piece shine. It has a gorgeous poignancy. Wonderful.

  • Anne van Alkemade

    Anne van Alkemade

    welcome back my friend.
    :o)

  • Cassey

    Cassey

    This is great stuff.

  • gretchen .

    gretchen . less than a minute ago

    i completely felt the hope of each line… such strong writing :-)

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Tags:

150, faith, hope and joy