As you left, I listened to each footstep
that echoed off the walls, that muttered of your departing.
I listened as the stairs creaked and groaned
as they called you to stay,
and to the door that shuddered at your sudden absence.
I stood for a moment and listened
to the tap, tap,
Then—feeling a sudden urge—
I ran to the upstairs window
in hopes of catching one more glimpse of you,
as if to see you off with some silent
and solemn salutation. But you had vanished.
I only saw the
building puddles on the smooth rocks.
The air wrapped me in melancholy
as I stared off into the mute, wet sky—as every
dreary, drowsy drop
stirred the sprouting buds of the birch tree
beyond the columns of the balcony.
Some spirits whispered something
of you to the old tree that the young leaves were