curses
catch the sheets on fire
when chance
you swore to leave
broken
every plate I own
decided not to grieve

for the busted chair
the heavy heart –
weeds to crowd my soul
a bridge in need
of mending –
morning whispers
cold

as winter warned
the flame to die –
with promises of spring
ashes silt the corners
reminders –
every thing

of yesterdays
returned anew –
the choice made long ago
flowers bloom
in shades of smoke
– for reasons
I don’t know

. . .

Author’s Note:  I’ve been carrying this
picture around for almost three
years…..waiting for words
to wake me.