In August the grass discovered it could grow all by itself. <br />It could stretch its green almost to the sky. <br />The grass-cutter was being removed, it was free! <br /> <br />He was not going to live in the house anymore. <br />No more shaving cream in the bathroom. <br />No more man smells to ruin the atmosphere. <br /> <br />The house was free. Alleluia! Alleluia! <br /> <br />He was packing his clothes, his books, his life. <br />He was wrapping his past into green garbage bags. <br />Packing his clothes into duffle bags and suitcases. <br /> <br />Even as he removed his presence from the house, <br />he was reminded of how insignificant he had become. <br />Words flew at him like fireflies in the dark. <br /> <br />The woman was free. Alleluia! Alleluia! <br /> <br />Tears were not an option, he had been trained otherwise. <br />Face stoic, set in firm stone of absolute determination. <br />The end was the end, or perhaps a beginning? <br /> <br />Slipping his bags into the car, starting the engine. <br />One last look at the house he had worked to have. <br />One last sigh as he hit the pedal and drove away. <br /> <br />The man was not coming back. Alleluia! Alleluia! <br /> <br />He wondered who would cut the grass now?<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alleluia-alleluia/
