Ongoing

 

gone
she is
a million billion
scattered atoms
each complete unto
itself and I am at peace

some
would call
her passing
a failure of heart
as though fragility won
despite all best intentions

here
the roses
pale-centred
offer a lemon tang
she couldn’t have known
in her final season but I can

we
assimilate
the remainders
of each attentive breath
she is my stem my roots
and I am her sense of forever

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