THE END by Kelly Wantuch ( Ekphrastic of George Segal's The Restaurant Window)

                                                                                                       

They no longer acknowledge  

The ruptured windows of matte

Patina reflections in  

Their cold burnt coffee re-warmed.

Yellowed Polaroids cascade out

Of dusty gathered albums stored.

Pigeons rustle and moan among

Dry bread crumbs thrown. A red balloon

Slips through the boy’s fingers drifting

Into the dark mist an unknown town.

They are just forced to wait longer.