Generic

Momento Mori. 
 
 
 
I sit in a shaded tranquil spot; 
greenery halfway between 
burgeoning and gone over, 
where moss clings reassuringly to 
ancient stones. 
 
Milky white bells parade daintily 
in a haze of delicate scent. 
Just like the ones I know are 
secreted in fragile tissue 
in an attic; a happy memory 
awaiting discovery on a rainy day. 
 
On a fragment of scorched paper 
were once words, promises; 
unreadable now but still 
suspended somewhere in 
someone’s mind. Remembered. 
 
Light bends, carefully caressing 
the last tulip petal hinged to its stalk. 
And I know the love will always be there; 
even after his hand has let go.