Remnants

The house is inviting and painful;
She left remnants behind.
A glove in the grass
Blackened by earth.
The plumbago lift their arms
As she trims beneath them;
Gusting wind; a floral scent;
The door draws them in.
Nails click on less-kept tile;
Little One searching room to room;
Halts and cocks an ear.
But keyboard is silent;
Both blessing and curse;
Assured her presence;
I tossed and turned.
What time is it?
This night and life;
Endless and brief.


Poem by Carol Fullerton-Samsel
Revised image by ds_30 at Pixabay

Published by cafsamsel

Carol Fullerton-Samsel is a nearly-native Floridian who lives with her husband of 25 years and three rescue animals. She has a passion for day-hiking and nature, and also enjoys writing. Be sure to visit the TenPaths YouTube channel, which is still in its infancy.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: