The flowers still smelled quite sweet from her garden at least.
Aromas rose up from beside the patio, lingering under her nose.
Warm all around, in the air, in her skin.
Something cold clutched her conscience, made her bones shiver.
With nothing to celebrate misery waits.
A lonesome porch swing the centerpiece for mourning,
sways lightly at the breath of phantoms.
Looking forlorn into the yard, all was hidden by mist.
It seemed the proper atmosphere to finally release her tears.
The night played tricks upon her eyes, conjured figures in the dark.
For the sake of her heart, for it to carry on, she will believe
a ghost wiped away everything while she cried.