Departed

DEPARTED One leaf remained still there upon the tree Not gripped with will but tenuous poise - no more Brown and dry, at a touch - would crumble, cease to be Or with mere zephyr breath might fall or soar The force which we call life that could revive Departed; no more impulse to survive Thus was the shell in which she’d dwelt four score A cold wax marionette, spirit withdrawn I would not brook she was this thing I saw Which she had seeming been, I’d come to mourn Could not conceive as her in truth no other Where? vitality, wit and love that comprised my mother N/A in Contest: Move Me (July 2919) Originally submitted Feb. 2928