the last race

the ghost of June
the last of three, the horses did run
the memories, they have begun.
letting you know...the pothos, they flourish
as does the palm,
how i acquired it...i truly would have shunned.
its been years now
as you laid there watching them take the last turn.
never would i have thought,
life would be so different with the approaching sun.
lost in your look,
a heaviness as i shook.
yet it was yours, that life took.
trying to breathe,
never will your spirit leave.
all around, the sum of your parts.
on my walls, hang all your art.
the love of wood, the furniture, i have placed
yet the silver has tarnished with today's pace.
thoughts one by one, remembering your grace.
the boxes neatly stacked, sized in appropriate progression
giving to a lifetime of accumulated possessions.
June, how it fills me
of how, it is to be.
dare i, to let go,
this heaviness, i would say so.