Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Upon Leaving

Time is past
Leaving little but the remnants
Of your scent upon my fingertips
Sweet and dark and lingering

You are gone
I feel the gentle fever
Of the softly spoken memory
Of your touch upon my skin

Yet you remain
An afterimage of fading light
A reminder of the past
Though the light and heat be gone

Your voice echoes
Ever in my mind
In the fading of the summer
The ending of the song

Alison Day