5:28 pm

the old swing creeks in the breeze

what was once filled with life

forgotten with time

he looks over at me

almost as if he wants to say something

cry in this deafening silence

I stare ahead and let this unreality fill me

wringing these tattered bones dry

shaking the skin from within

breathing

I reach out to touch his molecules

and watch them dissipate

alone I sit on the old swing

feeling the life course through veins

rooted in place

Reviews

[Relic]

I can't say I've ever touched anyone's molecules before. :)

I see someone returning to a place special. A place she remembers well because she was with him there at one time. It's rooted in her memory as she returns to silence where he sat.

I liked it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

for some reason this poem reminded me of the movie "Charley"---I picture him on the swing next to her and she knows that Charley she got to know and love is gone...

j.