On a lonesome bench, he sits
As the last leaves snowflake from
The bare branches he finds himself under
Eyes, now hidden behind frames
He stares attentively while one spirals
As it gravitates to the green before him
He scans the carpet as he attempts to defragment
The fading puzzle pieces of his life
But they lay there, like the scattered memories he now hoards
The taste of lovers’ lips
The whistle of a whippoorwill
The sensation of toes buried in the sand
Where did life get to? He asks himself
Where are the missing pieces that fit the space between
My youth and this aching isolation?
Where are the little things that once filled this void?
The sea shells once collected or the smiles on strangers’ faces?
Where are the hands that I once shook or the verses once recited?
He sighs... as he laments decisions made and grudges kept
And as a rake sweeps away these forgotten leaves
Every rustle awakens within him a sense of anguish
He struggles as he clutches to his recollection and his sanity
But the few relics he clings onto are being pried away
By a merciless dementia whose zeal he cannot match
And in the wake of his final battle, he raises his brow
Stares at the naked tree that towers above him
And weeps as he accepts defeat
So, as he faces his darkest moment, sitting on that bench
He closes his eyes, takes one last breath, and falls...
The final leaf... forgotten
© José V. Guerra Awe
