I See Her Walking in Thais Park

I dreamed I saw her walking
down the path,
her hands full with a satchel
of birthday
and valentine cards
for her married boyfriend.
pictures in baggies.
little pink hearts cut out
and colored
with crayons. I saw her in
the fog,
walking alone, looking over
her shoulder
as she turned into the woods,
a pocket full of pins.
a bouquet of plastic flowers,
her buttons saying hippy or
Harley chick, ready to be
fastened to the tree
where he carved his mistress's
heart. I dreamed that I saw
her bone thin and tired.
drained of hope.
haggard and sick.
the ache of starvation
upon her, full of guilt
and regret,
weary with her life
and those around her.
thinking endlessly about
ending it all.
still
unable to let go, still in
a trance, even at 61,
lost, a ghost in her
perpetual night.
it startles me when I
awaken. I shake my head
and put my feet onto the floor.
then look to where she used
to be, asleep curled
in bed, trembling,
soured and rotting
to the core. thankful,
thankful that she's gone.