INTO THE WINDOW

into the window, it comes flooding past- the
reminiscences, to take up- or fill in the empty
spaces once occupied by us, now caught by
the moon of half light readying to pause right
there on the floor board, leaving only a  chill bone
of breath, stale, silent, unanswered; you and I -we
were two lovers brought down by the flux of not
meant to be, we slipped away like the memory lost to
time as reflected by the faded wallpaper or to the bed we
shared, while on the wall opposite hangs the mirror hiding the ghosts
of what could have been, staring back from within the recess of oval

by Michael Perry