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Crying

Bill Tope

The woman was auburn-haired and
medium-sized and pretty, some
remember, but little else was known
about her. She appeared early every
spring morning in the park, in her
yellow sundress, before anyone else
arrived.

She perched upon the same green-
painted bench, the color of grass,
and wept until evening, when the
the park was desolate and quiet
once more.

She sobbed loud, mournful, lamented
tears that would rip the heart out of
your chest. This went on not for
minutes, or sequentially, but for hours
and even days: it was interminable.

What was this mewling, keening
display all about? No one ever knew.
Others were loath to inquire. But, it
persisted till the end of the season,
when all that remained was a washed-
out sundress and a bundle of wet
tissues.

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