I know these leaves
are not fragile,
but I’m alone
as I brush past them:
garbage in hand,
clear sky above
sharp with dawn.
The house is empty—
no socks on the floor,
no strands of hair in the tub,
just a few shreds
of cardboard from packing
and the fragile, faint
petal-soft
scent
of your missing soap.
© 2002 Christine Klocek-Lim
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Sorry it’s been so long since I posted and commented! My internet connection has been very unstable but seems to be all better now. 🙂
I really love this poem! the photo is beautiful, too.
beautiful poetry.& great photos…
“…petal-soft scent of your missing soap” great ending!!! No socks, no strands, no you, great poem!!!
What a poignant, tender and heartfelt piece of searching for significance in an otherwise forgotten recess of the human heart.
wow. i try to pick out a favorite fragment but the whole thing just builds on itself into a cohesive mood with a powerful ending.
Beautifully done.
Thanks for reading and checking in, everyone. I’m really pleased you liked this one so much. 🙂
Delicate, touching and without sentimentality. Very good poem and very nice picture.Happy Easter.
Paula, thank you very much. I hope you had a lovely holiday, as well. And good luck with the NaPoWriMo challenge! I didn’t even think to try until April was half over–maybe next year.
This piece can so easily strike, no, more like brush against, a core. Like a gentle peek, a somewhat lingering glance, at something unspoken. An exquisite poem, one that, to me, seems to relate to a previous one here entitled “Though Blind.” Both are indeed beautiful pieces. ^_^ I’m glad to have come across your poetry. I’ll be dropping by again for more. ^_^ Be well.
soulless, thank you for stopping by and for your uncommonly kind comments. I’m very pleased that these two poems spoke to you and that you received some enjoyement from them. 🙂
Ahhhh, lovely. I love the contrast between the leaves and the fragile scent of soap (and the fragile narrator). Such good, “real” details throughout, such as garbage in hand and no socks on the floor.
Janet, forgive me for thanking you so late. I’m so pleased you liked this poem. 🙂
This is a great ride. I love it.
Ardi, thanks. I’m glad you liked it.