11/3/10

Receding
By Wilda Morris


My feelings were diffuse

as the light that dusk cast

on the snow, turning

his footprints purple -

his footprints down

the path from my door.

I hardly knew whether

to be relieved or bitter,

to weep or celebrate.

I had not expected

to see him again.

He had come, he said,

to say hello, to ask

how things were for me.

But I knew this

would be the last time.

His hollow cheeks,

hacking cough, the distant look

in his eyes, told more

than his words. He had come

to say goodbye; he meant

I'm sorry—words he never

learned to say.


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Wilda Morris's first book of poetry, Szechwan Shrimp and Fortune Cookies: Poems from a Chinese Restaurant, was published by Rockford Writers Guild Press. Her blog, wildamorris.blogspot.com provides other poets with a monthly challenge and opportunity for publication.