There we are:
In a grove of aspens, golden,
quaking, with innocent smiles,
all drawn up together
beneath a fall of fluttering
citrus-stained leaves.
There we are:
I knelt by your bed,
knowing. You smoothed
my hair and my way home.
But your barely perceptible
tremble still hums
in my fingertips, late at night.
There we are:
Our last few days, exploring
the places you knew
as a child, before winter
sliced into the picture,
leaving behind an odd hole
shaped like you.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Image: Spearfish SD, source unknown
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