Gone

I look for you.

I scrutinise the lines on your face,

the furrows and folds of

extra flesh, but you are not there.

I search for you.

For the auburn tresses

on bronzed shoulders

now vanquished into snow.

I listen for you.

For the warm hum of

sundrenched chatter, the

froth and bubble of your laughter.

All silent.

I look for you.

I focus deep into your green eyes,

glazed over, muddied by the mounting years,

the tracks of time and rising fear.

I look for you,

in that final space.

Where what once was you holds on tight,

clutching every sunrise and fretful night.

And when you go, I know,

I will still look for you.