slow displacing
weight,

years
pooled at my feet,

afloat atop the
puddle-

a grey teardrop
in heat,

on the cusp of
clearing
up,

chiseled
from clay sleep..

or
grief

of farewell worth
forgiving,

heart in hand,
while never knowing.

a fading letter
to myself,

another season
boxed up,

visions dust the
eyelids

a teardrop
blurs dried photo

of boarded
garden
room

last rose in back
flaunts her
fleshy
hue

eternally in
bloom.