She made a show of hesitating on the threshold,
Leaning against the doorframe.
She regarded him with a small, false, enquiring smile,
He said nothing, merely looked at her.
And still she advanced, still smiling,
The expanse of skin about her collarbone was mottled.
And there were hairline cracks in her make-up around her eyes,
Stop at the window, consider the view.
The sun shines on a glitter of green,
And summer strides up the hillside.
He watched her where she stood with her back to him and her arms folded,
As if she were holding another, slightly self clasped tightly to her.
He noticed her poor bare feet with their stringy tendrils,
Once the world had seemed to him, a rich, coloured place.
Now all he saw was the poverty of things,
And the ghost of a love past.