I see the 
last bit of 
sun bouncing off
wall and onto
vase making it 
burn a bright
orange and then 
gray like day
is giving way 
to the ash 
of nights stay
and gone away 

I am not 
what you lost
but I am 
what I found 
and in looking 
I have seen 
many more things 
than just what 
might have been 

A dusty bell
heard from some
far off place 
rings in hushed
dull tones barely 
audible but steady 
I’m still here
a steady ache 
long ago gotten 
and used to
that now’s become 
just a part 
of everyday life 

I don’t 
expect nor
hope for 
there to 
ever be 
for tagging 
along behind 
like some 
baby brother 
wanting to 
join the 
big boys 
comes letdown 
kicking stones 
feigning naivety 

Fruits of my
very own labor 
come to bear
succulent and savory 
the aromatic air
of peace and 
quiet and care
room by room 
I cautiously dare 
to sweep 
and mop unaware