Immortality

Your house still smells like you: Warm shortbread and lavender soap - Comforting and agonizing. Your plants still bloom, Perched beside the window Where the kettle waits to be filled. But your rocking chair is still And all is quiet. I could have fallen to pieces Like a hand-blown vase Hurled against green walls Or dropped on old floorboards Through fingers slick with shock. But you sewed me up With words gone by. Your remnant thoughts (So similar to thoughts I've had) Penned in your slanted scrawl, Filling pages with perfect rhymes And clever observations. Here you'll live forever In vibrant verses and lilting lines. And I'll live here too Until the last salty drop Lands on the final page.