Bestowed upon my backyard
the beauty of Fall
engulfs the remains
of sweaty summers.
As winds creep in
and knock my kitchen door
I feel demented,
to have let go
our memories together.
Then I see the note
stuck on my fridge
in your handwriting.
Giving me the details
of your return
and unleashing a rush
of warmth, I missed.
I get up, I tear that note off
I walk across the yard
black veiled, ghostly.
I stick the note
on to the casket.
To let you see,
I read it.
To let you know,
we missed it.
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