Even when I didn’t want to leave the house,
you would postpone your work and offer
to walk me out to see the dandelions
that now flanked our unpaved street, two long lines
of yellow up to the major road.
Only the threat of rain could stop us,
not even my obstinacy could hold you.
With each heaving breath, we strove to the door,
my arm wrapped around your neck, your arm wrapped
around my trunk; in the last days it was this tough.
Like that we made it from door to door
in the house until we made it out
of the house. The light outside would have started
its gradual but sure process of waning,
the air smelling strongly of frangipanis.
The street was but two persons short of empty.
Deep in my heart, I felt a love-shaped bone,
it was empty.