You stripped the beds,
wiped down the shower,
emptied the wastebasket,
removed the wet towels,
and slipped out of the room.
I wasn’t ready to wash the cup you left behind on the sink,
cocoa stained ‘round the rim
looking like tea leaves
foretelling me you would go.
Though we tried to preserve us
with goodbye pictures at the gate,
only half-faces stared back from digital frames;
nervous laughter a poor substitute for hugs.
The weight of your leaving deflected our aim
so that only parts of you and me were captured in front of steel and glass DEPARTURES
But then I centered the lens on you
and captured the moment I wanted:
soft brown hair blowing in that breezy way it does when you let it.
I remember you.