after the ashes settle,
the wind carries a lone, torn page,
sides of faded text flanked with folds,
deep wrinkles sunk
across its base,

as
celebration
becomes
separation

and

fuzzy ink loses meaning,
in a rip of feeling,
a never-ending grieving,

is not until...

time prunes aged edges,
with adhesive affixed at affliction,
resemblance rises from its words,

before its own ashes blow in the wind.