They Were All Inside

IT is his last day
the places wait
along with iced planes
runways full of red lights
with blinking blue
under yellow haze of snow
rain
mixed with more
and more moisture.

IT is her last thought
while driving
across the bridge
with rails
like bicycle wheels
who spin
when she drives past.

IT was his and her but now
who knows.
His mind lays still on a
blank canvas
while hers contemplates
broken windows
cracked book covers
and a seldom seen sense.