She stands alone in the bitter cold, waiting, hoping to feel useful again.
It seems like forever since she heard a human voice, a vibrant hello, joy and laughter echoing here. Oh, how she enjoyed those calls!
And then, there were the others that made her weep. She cried along with the caller when there were tears of grief, or the bitterness of a scorned love. She listened while they rambled on, even though no one was on the line. She cradled them in the confines of her space, wrapped her arms around them doing her best to offer comfort.
Her brilliant red dress was once a shining beacon. Now she is an archaic reminder of the time when people used her to reach out to loved ones, or to conduct business. She was useful; she mattered. Thinking of those times makes her heart soar and her bells ring.
These days her only visitors are the mice seeking shelter from the snow. They’ve built nests in the abandoned corners of her unkempt booth. From time to time, a flock of pigeons in their luminescent suits of feathers arrive looking for food.
But she has nothing to give to anyone anymore.
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
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