We’ve held little pow-wows here
in our garage with our memories packed tight,
worn into the kitchen table and the counter tops.

The tea rings that have stained into the coffee table
bear singing memories of our lives here,
the last goodbye to a faded life,
but here we wish you – fare thee well.

And yet, in the early evening,
when the dusk smells a little like the dawn,
and the colors reflect opposing times of day,
we find ourselves gripping the porch railing,
looking out across the mountains,
wishing to see a whisper of you,
one last moment of life in death
some ethereal dream fading in and out among the grass
where we spread your ashes – some wisp in the fading daylight
dancing in and out of the orange and fuchsia twilight.

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