“I have a partiality, it seems, for the partial…” ~ Jean Morris
Yellow bells
wet with rain, caught
in the window’s red frame.
On her kitchen table,
gingham flecked
by the years.
There was not time
enough for sifting through
all the stories.
I bent to say goodbye,
brushing against her cheek
or the future’s papery leaf.
In response to Via Negativa: Unfinished.