the window is open
to the sound
of the water
sighing
the light
from the waning
moon
speaks softly
to the corner table
you left
a glass by
the kitchen sink
pale pink tracing
the line
where your lips
had been
by A.M. Clarke
the window is open
to the sound
of the water
sighing
the light
from the waning
moon
speaks softly
to the corner table
you left
a glass by
the kitchen sink
pale pink tracing
the line
where your lips
had been
by A.M. Clarke