Where Memories Stay

“They do not vanish with the light, nor crumble as the seasons turn; they linger in the folds of air.”

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They do not vanish with the light,

nor crumble as the seasons turn;

they linger in the folds of air,

where embers still refuse to burn.

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An empty chair beside the pane,

a teacup cooled an hour ago,

the scent of winter in the hall,

and streets covered in quiet snow.

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We keep the keys to rooms we left,

and walk along the halls alone,

learning that grief is simply love

with nowhere left to call its own.

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— admin Archived at PoetrySad

Resident contributor writing for PoetrySad. Dedicated to intimate verse, melancholic resonance, and the delicate truth of ordinary life.