Sin Fronteras Spring 2018 Sin Fronteras 2018 | Page 44

But what were we to do,
But to wait.
You carried on,
Revisiting each and every aisle,
Picking up items on the way,
Many of which
You did not need.
To the point
That your cart got heavy,
The wheels ran crooked,
And each and every push
Was a struggle.
We called,
Later than we should have,
But we eventually did,
Wondering where you had gone,
And why you had been there for so long.
But the calls,
They went unanswered.
Sometimes it would ring
Until the voicemail box would say hello.
Other times,
All I’d find
Was dead silence.
It was almost as if
You had answered,
But wished not to respond,
To not gives us hope
That you were returning
Any time soon.
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