The smell of damp earth
reaching to greet the sky.
Your contorted face,
lemon still in hand.
Last goodbyes.
Your sisters wide smile
etched in you like a plaque.
Guiding words spoken in earnest.
The smell of your mother's casserole,
stuck to the curtains of your inheritance.
Is that your high-school friend
you see disappearing in the crowd?
A good book.
A really, really good book.
Finding dog hairs stuck on the carpet,
years after the flowers crowded his mound.


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