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What She Left Remains
A red wine stain stays
seared into the wooden grain —
the table keeps watch
how their laughter filled the room
last time they were together
jellybeans loiter
on the shelf in cookie jar
I wish none remained —
better emptiness than this
waiting for sweet that's hollow
Perfume on pillows,
a scent that's too strong at times
still wafts through the air —
sometimes the scent warms the room
often it dampens the mood
Burn marks scar the trays
where scones were baked lovingly
await scraper's blade —
to erase fond memories
of toppings with jam and cream
much-loved song lies poised
in the player seldom used
my choice, not hers now —
ready to play her music
to ignite the glow we shared
no flowers drying
only books she left behind —
in the bookcases
that still cups the curve of hands
that held them by candlelight
mailbox yawns empty
no letters, no messages
no texts, likes on screens —
she deleted her accounts
no one home, got no reply
So much left to clean
to pack, stack, clean and carry
yet I leave it still —
for the mess is a mirror
that keeps her ghost in the room
Copyright ©
John Anderson
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