Spilled Milk Baby

I enriched Hannah’s life with radiance,
so it soothes her face, wrapped for a suitor.
We’d exchange recipes and a cup of milk
that she spilled on my carpet.
I joked that I’d return the spilled milk
when she least expected it.
I embraced her soft kiss
with a tryst, climbing into her
bedroom window when he was out of town.
It’s been a while since she last smiled,
or glittered with a twinkle in her eyes,
drawing me in with her smooth, alluring pale skin
as the fairest of them all.
He skipped town with another woman,
and she showed up after the sun
slipped behind the horizon,
giving heed to the moonlight.
I flipped the balcony light on and separated the shutters with my fingers.
Hannah was trembling, hugging herself with her chin lowered.
Damp strands of her long, dark hair stuck to her cheeks.
I opened the door. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“Surprise,” Hannah said, brushing tears away.
I let the thought resonate.
Hannah arched her brow. “Not mad, are you?”
I bridged the space between us and hugged her with fervor.
“No use in crying over spilled milk.”
Hannah smiled and melted in my arms.

Twitter – @AC0040

(© 2023 AC)

(WattpadAmazon KindleSpillwordsThe Writers ClubThe Indie Book Store)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s