For the one’s we lost. From life’s pull, the inevitability of death, or failed relationship, etc.
You may always find me in something.
In the faintest light in the darkest morning.
In the single droplet on a leaf.
At the closing words of a forgotten letter.
In the frame of a decaying picture.
You can always find me.
In a strangers face in an unknown town.
Or atop the mountain peak.
I may be there alongside for a moment or two.
I’ll be in the woods where we’d walk.
In the personal effects I’ve left.
Or in the shower you swore I was singing.
I’m always somewhere.
In the smell of my old clothes.
A ghostly image you’ll never forget.
You spoke to me.
And you swore you heard my voice from the foyer.
Heard my laugh at the bar.
I’ll be in the crowd.
Reach for me.
But don’t chase.
I’ll always be a step away.
In the afterlife of a dreary summer.
In the background of any photo.
The smoky eyes of a stranger.
In the snow of a cold winter.
Or the quiet morning fog.