The Canyon

she sits at the edge

not peering below

her eyes glazed over

as if not fully there

but somewhere far away

not seeing

or feeling

the precipice

or caring if she did

the light is low

sending orange and pink

shafts of light

into the growing shadows

as the coolness of the air

slowly turns to cold

loose strands and tresses

fluttering along cheeks and forehead

and she doesn't bother

to brush them aside

instead

blinking away

the moisture of

a single tear

startled suddenly out of her reverie

she crunches sand

under the rugged brown leather boots

that are a size too big

they were his

like the sweater hanging loosely

around her shoulders

which she now wraps closely around her body

turns around

and

joins the living