Her Tears

Her Tears Her green eyeshade is moisture of tears shed long ago when she was young and in love, now she sat in the foyer of her hotel like a fat spider, unmoving but seeing and hearing all. Dressed in black and in half-light diamonds glittered her eyes and in the engagement I gave her thirty years ago, she was beautiful but spurned me for her father´s hotel. Didn’t want to be here where love had died and only pot plants thrived; I needed a room, wrote my name in a ledger paid in advance, went for a drink. The woman was silent.