NaPoWriMo, day seven

second spring

new plastic red shoes
and a ruffled dress made of
happiness that floats
aren’t often worn during a
hard farewell.

it felt right, nonetheless.

i watched the leaves and
pieces of him
take flight,
between a laugh
and another lonely first,
reached up and plucked a
final memory from the tornado of
swirling gold.

it was our last

(inspired by a day of missing. they provided the picture.)


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