Musk scented memories,
the base notes of your voice
trailing………
the long corridors
checking out.
Were you muttering
something
in low notes?
Indiscernible,
yet,
cutting…
Was it the tune we used to dance to?
You always said that song could say
what you can’t…
Weren’t those white lilies
plumes of white petals
trumpeting their blooms
just a day before…now wilting?
A sobering awakening not requested
cruel and finite
The car in the driveway?
Those memories are like the gravel it traveled on to pull in
but will stay until it speaks no more
I haven’t pulled the drapes back.
Your footprints in the
perfect snowfall… I guess,
are still fresh?
Yet to be covered by more
falling snow…
I step in them to trace your path before you’re gone again
Trying desperately to fill the empty spaces
you left behind
And the car? Well…
The keys will stay in my pocket for now..