It was the day before you left
I remember the breakfast
then the walk.
The floral gardens are so lovely
in the early summer.

Focused perfectly
you framed in roses
within the arch
of the climbing rose arbor
Somewhere a windchime
was lilting.

Looking now
at the last photograph
I would take of you.
They say the clicking camera
tells no lies

Your ashen loveless face
Was saying the goodbye
I heard this morning.