Gilly Flower Writings

How it Started

By Kathryn Evans

It started with a Waffle House

and could have ended there.

It started with fluorescent lights

pulsing overhead, as if they could banish

the night that spread over the world outside.

            The night outside seemed unreal

            and only the lights inside

            could save this dream from waking.

It started with eyes that were

as large and brown as the cups

of coffee between us.

            Those eyes looked into mine,

            they saw the secrets that were hidden

            behind my own blue puddles.

It started with words that were

as sweet as the syrup

and stuck to my tongue in the same way.

            Those words could melt butter

            and melted me with every syllable,

            every pause left me weak.

It started with lines scribbled

on napkins and shared shyly

across the table.

            Those thoughts, too sacred

            to be shared with others, were mine

alone, to be kept with permanence.

It started with hands that slowly

inched between plates

and around salt shakers.

            Hands that sought out mine

            and held them tightly as if afraid

they might be snatched away.

It started with a night

and it ended with the hope of day.