vignettes

leftovers

Of all these things you've left behind—
clementine rinds on a saucer,
a glass of thawing ice on the bar,
the crescent moon in the night sky—
I cherish most our late-night talks.

Of all these things you've left behind—
spectacles on the chest-of-drawers,
memoirs with loose bindings,
the porch swing at a standstill—
I cherish most our afternoon walks.