She's Gone

by David M Gunson

I touched her hem today,
Ran my hand down her jacket,
Searched her wardrobe in vain
For one last smell.

Her sleepwear lies dormant
Under her pillow, now a year.
Her cosmetics and perfumes
Are wasting away.

Her message is there
On the answer machine;
A few seconds of her voice,
Unmistakable and clear.

All else is static,
Just pictures on walls,
Her clothes limp on hangers
Or scattered in drawers.

It feels like she's leaving,
So little remains,
Just tears every morning
And longing at night.

On the way to the gravesite
I looked to my left
And my memory recalled her
Looking back at me.

I read her a poem
And left her some flowers,
But these rituals seem empty;
She's gone, you see.

27-Jul-2013

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