You had grown old
and constricting
a wool sweater
faded, itchy

Blooming light in
younger sight
have seen your eyes
grow dim

Counting rays in
your once bright gaze
and falling asleep
on your hip

Your hands are full of water
slowly dripping on the lawn
hoping it will grow back
greener than before

But your hands
have always been dry
when the sky is unforgiving
and it never rains

Your words become
soggy; moist
one grain
too much salt

Leftovers
from yesterdays
breakfast

I awake from a dream:
***** heels; red eyes;
gaunt face; sentiments forgot

I turned in my sleep
and saw that you were pale
Dead rose petals surface
from beneath sour milk