Trace

Faded letters like dusty flowers fill the windowsill

I stare out and think of you.

The remnants of your life ..in baubles and torn faces scattered

mattered so much to you.

I want to keep them ..to keep you..to keep the ineffable from drifting away.

But they cannot stay. We cannot stay.

Beloved trinkets, balls of yarn, your mothers lace

Can we trace the contours of longing into being?

I found my picture… in a heart shaped pin… in a box.

I am one of your traces.

3 generations of family

5 thoughts on “Trace”