the ripe, red fruit he used to pick

from the tree in,

the garden he loved.



i remember.



his eyes.

still.

appearing lost

but

always watching me

from the distance.



i remember.



his smile.

no words.

just

the constant flashing of

a row of not-quite white teeth.

like unpolished pearls.

but pearls all the same.



i remember.



his old chess board.

and,

the way.

he

moved.

each.

piece.



i remember.



his hearty laugh,

when a joke was told,

or

when he just wanted

me to feel

loved.



i remember.



the way his body

looked.

before he turned into

ashes.



i remember.



when he was still breathing,

when he was still walking,

ever so slowly.



i remember.



the tears i shed,

my heart that bled,

when she told me he

had gone away,

never.

to.

come back.

again.



i remember.