Memories

Lost and broken, she wanders the night
down gloomful, somber streets of her past,
no longer looking for anything here –
for nothing worth finding, remains.

Then sits under a long-broken street lamp,
on a splintered old park bench
(once-red paint faded to dismal gray)
eyes closed, to travel inner landscapes now.

Nothing left for her in this neighborhood.
Silent, silvery spectrals of what had been
leave their trails between lamp and bench –
unseen, but deeply felt. She knows each name,

Each memory engraved into her soul.
She allows the tears to come at last,
healing for the thirsty ground below –
life-giving to the seeds she plants.

3/16/24