I sat by the window trying to catch a sunbeam, when a man
in a black suit, that hung loose on his skinny frame, walked
past and I saw him disappear where the sandy road ends
and the olive grove begins. For reasons unknown to me he
cried, tears rolled to the lane like a broken pearl necklace.
I sat by the window trying to catch a sunbeam when he
returned pulling an open coffin with a solid handle and four
suitcase wheels; in it a woman, in her best nightdress sat,
darning wooly socks. The man looked at me, shrugged his
scraggy shoulders as to say: a wife´s work is never done.
I sat by the window, had caught a tiny sunbeam held in
my hand when the black suited returned pulling the same
coffin, its lid was held in place by ropes. I opened my
hand released the trapped sunbeam, the vista of grief
vanished and the day was bright and sunny.
