I have been traveling for weeks now
on this (dreaded) path you called a symphony
back
when I still heard the rustle of my mother’s clothes
& tried to suck the warmth out of her shadow
in passing
I will (never) get used to being
the one who waves at you
in the rearview mirror, determined
not to look back —
I guess
life is funny that way.
Another Wandering Soul 