Paper Wings

The flowers bloom after the storm,

but I haven’t shed a tear.

I’m still grasping with our empty table

and the sudden drop in temperature

ever since you left last year.

I was known through your stem,

but now my petals wilt on every wall.

I can feel this extra space

teetering between my doorway and the hall.

Your books are collecting dust

in a room that will never feel the same.

Who will be the one to slow my gust

and console me when the thunder gets

too loud while you’re away?

Five miles has never felt so far,

and I miss you in the smallest of things,

but I’ll watch you grow

an array of colors in your garden

and hope that someday

the rain will come and lay the ground

for me to do the same.

-A.J