The Quiet

he walks down the lane
a single rose clasped within his palm
its petals soft and gentle
reminding him of his lover’s voice

a shift within as one memory
lifts upon another
his thumb caresses the velvet
though it were a cheek instead

her gentle laughter echos in his ear
her shy smiles, a healing touch
the way she pushed her face
into his palm when he reached for her

has all been fading away
he clings desperate
to her only remaining thread
memories

he lifts the rose to his lips
notices the dewdrops upon the edges
how long had he been crying?
had he ever really stopped?

peering up, he realizes it’s autumn now
she left in the spring
he doesn’t remember daffodils
or the brutal summer heat

his heart grows heavy, weary
she slowly fades
and he understands now
he is fading away with her


tara caribou | ©2019

Read this and more in my poetry book, Four.

23 thoughts on “The Quiet

  1. why did she leave?
    why is he realising it now?
    he missed the signs?
    he realises it is autumn? this should come as no surprise? seasons don’t typically hit us out of left field, they follow a reasonably predicable pattern …
    surely this is neglect … i’m feeling it is like taken for granted and realising what he has lost through his negligence?
    i have killed what i love or have let what i love die and now that is taking me with it, only myself to blame … ?
    there is part of me that says you need to take responsibility for writing stuff that throws a grenade into someones thoughts, and another (bigger) part of me that says wow, thanks, i think 😉
    i like it, but parts seemed a little close.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ahhhhh I love that this sparked so much thought in your mind. To be honest, in my mind I pictured a man who has lost his love to death. And in his grief, time is passing by (the reference to the change in seasons) without him noticing it. He holds on to her memory tightly but at the end realizes that in doing so, he is losing himself as well. I hope that clarifies it. You know me, I do tend to leave things a bit ambiguous.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. yes so many questions – many thoughts spinning around.
        the opposite of ambiguous seems so often to be ‘predictable and boring’ – i like ambiguous, it makes my mind wander, it makes me think … and there are so many things written for one purpose, that find other lives in different purposes, because we all see things differently … and we can be thankful for that !

        Liked by 1 person

  2. We long for a love we’ve lost
    feels like was a long time ago
    we don’t remember the details
    yet, we have survived though.

    In spite of feelings of being sad
    somehow, it helps our growing
    all those memories are good
    &we should be happy for loving.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. There is a beautiful melancholy to this piece, Tara, and great imagery. To me this could be fairly literally or used as a metaphor for a journey through life itself, and trying to cling on to what we love.
    Fine writing.

    Liked by 1 person

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