Day 13, PAD challenge. Prompt: a "question" title.
she asks and sighs to see
the hands on the face moving
forward (too fast, always) as she pulls
her hands over hers and turns
back to the packing,
hands already gloved with a fine grey
dust, packing the books first,
then the winter clothing, last
the teakettle and
kitchen implements
pennies, warmed in our hands,
burnt holes through the thick
garden of ice on the windowpane, that
tapestry of cool, so we could
see the drifts new-pillowing
the hills, deadening sound
lovely in his bones, throwing off
his coat, with a shrug, with a
smile
stay awhile
but no
he goes
pages, crumbling, of Time and
Tide, arriving in a pale
envelope, hand-lettered, the
stamps uncancelled
added to the last-minute
box, the grocery circular too,
that-which-might-be-needed
a final sweeping of the
floor, then gone, wondering, indeed,
where the time went
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