her eyes are frost on the greenhouse windows,
summer trapped behind a memory;
still beautiful,
but faded.
tainted by winter.
they stare.
they’ll stare forever, even after he reaches to close them.
a beacon in our minds
marking a potential unmet.
we’ll always be able to find it.
when we despair, we’ll seek it out
and life will be so small
and a hand I held,
gone,
but her fingers catch mine in the night
when the mind seeks to torture.
a shoulder in my side
cardboard in a velveteen gown.
she was so stiff
even as she whispered
those childish songs.
seeing it,
the photo on the fridge:
blinking,
us together.
she was autumn in the sunlight
but new as the scrapes on our knees.
scars, her only legacy,
and they too fade
even if they never heal.
