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A cold wax marionette, spirit withdrawn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
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