Skip to main content

A Hair Upon His Pillow



A Hair Upon His Pillow
by Nabih Saliba

A hair upon his pillow
The scent of old perfume
Both obvious reminders
Someone else had shared his room

There's laughter in the shower
And a shirt still on the floor
Just another indicator
Of a night that is no more

The lipstick on his collar
Has been washed but still exists
Like many other memories
It's faded but persists

The picture in his wallet
Holds a copy of her smile
He'd look at it quite often
Though he hasn't in a while

Her clothes hang in the closet
Her toothbrush by the sink
Now every time he sees them
It makes him stop and think

The bottles on the counter
The wheelchair by the bed
Not the promise of tomorrow
But what happened here instead

There's a hair upon his pillow
Not a taunt to bring him strife
But a blessed testimony

Someone else had shared his life

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Story Problems and Escape Pods

This is a continuation of a previous post. If you'd like to read it first, click here.

Danny managed to sit in his seat just as the last bell in the school chimed. He barely avoided another tardy by bolting down the hall while ducking under the little windows in every classroom door. His dad had dropped his mother and sister off first before driving like a crazy person to get him to school. Like a scene straight out of an action film, the van had rocked back and forth it dodged cars, swung around corners and squealed tires. When his father skidded up to the school, he yelled, “GO! GO! GO!”

"Danny run!" shouted Molly from the school's main door. Molly was Danny's best friend and the one always helping to keep him out of trouble. "You'll be late again if you don't hurry!" Danny turned to say goodbye to his dad but the van was already screeching around the corner and headed out of sight. Quickly he started running toward Molly. She waved him down the…

The Light

The Light By Nabih Saliba
I light the path for all to see They shall not trip because of me How great I am that darkness flee I do all this without a fee
And so it went each night for lamp Who proudly thought itself a champ But then one evening came a tramp His clothes were worn, and torn, and damp
He staggered left, he stumbled right He should not try to walk at night The drunkard fell into the light Thrown from the lamp with disdain bright
Why should I help this man below? He’s far beneath me don’t you know His lesser breeding clearly show This beggar can’t deserve my glow
And so the lamp let darkness fall On he who lay there in a ball As shadows grew both thin and tall The lamp stood off for one and all
Then suddenly the night time fled

Untitled Story pt.2

This is another installment of my "Untitled Story." The preceding portion can be found here.

Gregory Santo sighed at the stack of parchment glaring at him from his desk. This latest batch of border reports would seem less daunting if it represented more than a single day. Looking around his cramped workspace revealed similar piles stacked on chairs, overflowing shelves and collecting dust in the darkened corners of his time room. The Council had assigned him the honor of serving as interim security coordinator but any comfort taken from the position being temporary faded little over five years ago.

Pushing his chair away from the desk, the young acolyte stood and picked his way across the room to a leaded window. Throwing the latch, Gregory swung open the small porthole hopeful that the stacks of paper behind him would suddenly rush through it to freedom. Barely a rustle could be heard as the night air was heavy and unmoving. Father Santo sighed deeply and watched the sun thro…