small things
left behind
that you see
through a window,
her purse
on the table,
a shoe turned
to the side,
left just
the way it was
when her
foot slid out
and she went
up the stairs
with a cup
of tea, a
magazine, a book,
a paper, all
the things
she'd never
get to read,
never find
the time.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment