I lived a quiet night goodbye,
wrestled on the floor painting
grout lines with my finger tips
while you slept with the blue
light crawling through the window
your skin cool with color.
By morning you were gone
like the last silk fabrics slipping
through seamstress hands,
your motion like wind through the bedroom,
then the sad sound of the front door closing.
I imagined you moving
across the yard with an armful
of books, stepping with your tiptoes,
dew laying peaceful on moist morning grass.
-A collaboration with Katie Bowler (www.katiebowler.com)