Roely
She said, 'My chairs will see me out.'
and so they did. And yet she sits here still
in quiet corners.
A wash of winter light
turns Delft blue design to darkness -
snow scumbled in sky
across a flat and furrowed land
where windmills reach
beyond the point a human eye can find
where once we walked
when this empty vase
held tulips.
Stamen and stem to mulch.
Only a clock breaks silence
to meter minutes as years pass.
Wind and rewind until
the movement stops and springs uncoil
to find, or not find grace.
christina fletcher
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