By Grace Dove
one less petal
forget-me-not
threads of time, unravelling
the snow outside, thawing
the car tracks have melted
our winter blue gloom,
has come to an end.
smiles glimpsed through frosted windows
once pale cheeks, rosy red
bundles of photographs, boxed
hand-written letters, tear-streaked words,
an unintelligible pool on the page, filed
out of sight
a shadow of a kiss lingers on my brow,
left temple, left cheek
a drought in the well of tears;
holes in the tapestry, sewn shut
fresh paint to seal the cracks
the wind carries remnants
along a new path
though the final petal wilts
the memory remains