The archways

                                                  PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

She wore white, and stood under the stoned archway, her sombre eyes staring at

him till he was out of sight. She was always there as if she had a prior inkling of

him pass by. Never was a word uttered nor a greeting exchanged.

Today he has returned to the cobbled pathway after a quarter century.

She still stood under the fading archway wearing white and didn't look a day older

while his pate wore a receding hairline. His efforts to break ice with her was

greeted with stony silence.

A passer-by if he was talking to the stone-walls.

                            

                                          written for Friday Fictioneers

                                               thanks you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields



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