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After you had passed on
Your things came to me, looking to be loved again
So bereft; so alone were they-
The colorful silk scarves, the chunky jewelry
They wanted a home, a family life
And they wanted to stay together
But the faint whiff of grief that clung
To them; clung like stench, to an overflowing river
Or like the low clouds that hang over a wasteland
That questionable scent
Made me think too much of death, decay
It stung, reopened again longing's rude wounds
Though some day, I might go visit them just once
When your memory has been put safely to bed
And they are well-secured in the airless vacuum of neglect.
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