Fragments of moments
That can never fuse into
Wholesome experience
Are what remains
When you depart
With the light on your back
Leaving
Shards of luminescence
Splattered
In your wake

I remain
Bound
In the wastelands
Of attachment
Perpetually
Chasing your ghost
Until I become one.

Tucked away in the edge of the trees
Roses round the door
The old greyish thatched roof
A haven for small birds and little things
The old couple who lived there always had a smile and a kind word
They didn't have much else living on just their pensions
I used to walk past there and always there would be the aroma of fresh baked bread
A home made pork pie cooling on the window ledge
Occasionally as a kid I would go round and feed their chickens
Collect the eggs
My reward a home made cake and a mug of sweet milky tea
As they grew older and more frail
I would dig over their vegetable garden
And saw a few logs
But that old man was fiercely independent and still insisted
On doing much of the work himself
Then one wet foggy day I saw the ambulance heading to the cottage
He had collapsed and died near the front door
Natural causes they said
The old lady died just two days later
That old couple had been together for more than seventy years
Together in life and wouldn't be separated by death