February 2010
1 post
Remnants.
There are pieces of her,
here, there
remnants that linger,
that do not let me forget.
Her hairband on the dresser:
I now wear it around my wrist.
Her washcloth hanging
from the towel rack.
Her box of tissues
beside the pillow where she slept,
poorly (my fault),
always facing away from me.
Leftovers in the fridge:
today they are eaten, gone.
Ash dusting the hearth
after indoor...