Ribbons

I cut the ribbons from my life to mark the pages
of the loves that made me cry, of the sleepless
nights knowing everyone has gone, from fields
emptied over many years. I bravely look on.

I wonder, will you remember my warm hand on
your hand, cooling as you slept away from me,
the ribbon that kept us together now in a box
on my desk. The color of my life without you.

I learned how to not grow old from you, even as
the iris in your eyes released me from the blue
obligation of grief. I hold them all, but deeply you,
your ribbon fading. Can you feel my sorrow?

(From my notebook. For Ercell Lynn, 1915 – 2014)

photo credits
(where not otherwise credited)

“Memory of a house” / photograph by Gower Brown on Unsplash.com

You can support The Palace with the purchase of Everything Is Important Until Nothing Is Important (2022), my first published collection of poems.