you like
to leave
small things
to remind
me that you
were here
and have
left. a ring,
a shoe,
a sock,
perhaps
a dress
tucked neatly
beneath the bed.
a strand
of hair left
to curl
in the sink,
or tub, my
book of
poems,
turned down,
unread.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment